


Bound to Duty

by squashlife



Series: Bound to duty [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, Blood and Violence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-04-07 04:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 180,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squashlife/pseuds/squashlife
Summary: Arya is forced into marriage by her father, at reguest of King Robert. Her home and safe space is ripped out of her hands when she and her sister is sent down to the capital where she finaly meets her husband to be. However trouble begins to stir in King's Landing which separates her from her family and she's forced to face the harsh reality of life alone as a lone wolf. Stranded in a castle she can't call home with a man she has to call her husband, she struggles to find balance in her new life as lady of a great house and her ties to her family as chaos erupts. All while figureing out the complicated feelings brewing in her chest and getting to know the new person in her life and her place in it as it soon becomes the only thing she has left.-Slow burn and a twist on cannon events.-Part 2 out now





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begining, Breach and Border

Arya stirred under her covers as she curled tighter together, trying to suppress the low growl in her stomach that was desperately begging to be filled with some form of food and water. Her throat was dry to the point where even forming split was beginning to turn into a problem, it made breathing a difficult ordeal with the dry air running in and out of her lungs, coating her throat with the dust from her furs.

She tightened her arms around her and pulled the covers closer around her head, curling her toes further under her legs. She cursed in her head as she refused to listen to the pleas coming from her body, wishing it would just go numb already so she could be left alone for once. Her thoughts were the only place she was ever truly left alone, no tugging at her to follow along, no yelling at her to behave or scolding’s when she then refused to do as ordered.

Her mother was the worst to do all of those exact things, sometimes all at once if she felt compelled enough. Like a hound hunting down a rabbit, Catelyn was always on her tail and constantly in her ear telling about her stuff she not only knew already, but deliberately tried to ignore hearing from anyone else as it was nothing but futile information to Arya.

Anything coming out her mother’s mouth was irrelevant to Arya, she didn’t care about what happened to any of the lords or ladies around the north, and most definitely not in any of the other kingdoms. She was never going to meet them, never going to speak to them, and most importantly - in her opinion - never going to have a real effect on her.

The fact that her aunt - yet again - had a problem, one of which her mother couldn’t actually help her with, was simply just frustrating to hear about and a waste of air to speak of. It didn't change Arya’s perspective on which shirt she should wear that day, and it wouldn’t affect how she thought about whether or not kicking Sansa underneath the table that day would be worth the risk if she was to hope to be allowed to go on a hunt with her brothers later that afternoon.

 It simply didn’t matter to her.

Yet her mother insisted on informing her about it every day as they sat at the breakfast table, because she believed that it was a learning matter. Her flying boot it was. It was gossip, nothing more and nothing less. It was ladies worrying about other ladies’ problems just so that they had something to discuss when they sat by the fire and stitched flowers into their gown that day.

A dress of which they would never actually get to wear since they never had the “proper company” over, and even if they did they would still always choose another dainty dress, one they liked better, saying that the other would be “too fancy for such an simple dinner party” It quite frankly made Arya want to hurl herself out of window.

The only time Arya actually cared about the lords and ladies of the north, was when her father finally opened his mouth to discuss things with her eldest brother Robb. She would only eavesdrop on their discussions, since she had learned the hard way not to include herself into their conversations “IT’s not matters for you to worry about” her father would say to her.

 Not that Aunt Lysa’s problems was her matters either she believed, but her fathers warning it didn't stop Arya from still trying to think of solutions to these problems by herself. She would make scenarios in her head as she listened to both her father's and her brothers’ opinions on the different topics, and then tried to figure out which would have the best outcome. She could spend hours on it sometimes just to pass the time, but she wasn’t the greatest at it she’d admit. Most her solutions were much more simple than what her father suggested; tell the lords to do as they said or they could fuck off and dig themselves a new one.

She of course understood now that it isn’t all that simple. To rule one had to consider relationships at all times, and most lords don't take kindly to be told to; fuck off, when they disagreed with you. Even if they did technically have to listen to you no matter what.

When she was younger her father would laugh when she interrupted these conversations and told him what to do instead, now he simply scowled at her and with a sad smile told her that she should know better at the age of eighteen. She should, and sometimes she did know better, and she laughed in her head each time she figured out that her own solution would’ve worked a hundred times better then whatever Robb or even Brandon thought of.

Of course, she wasn’t taught deliberately, about politics that was, the times she was taught some, it was the wrong kind of politics in her opinion, the side the ladies and wives had to take care of, which unsurprisingly to Arya wasn’t worth even a second of her undivided attention.

Her mother had at an early age accepted that she couldn’t put her expectations too high when it came to Arya and her studies, but Arya also wasn’t her eldest daughter, luckily, so she saw through fingers with most of Arya’s objections, and would usually just let her go when the reading became too much for her.

She took greater care of Sansa instead, her favorite and eldest daughter, and so of greater importance to the family. She was the bigger price Arya always said. Her way of treating Sansa was much like how she treated her brothers, she kept a close eye on Robb making sure he always looked his best and did his best, but was much more laid back when it came to Brandon or Rickon, and most definitely Jon. He could’ve become a stable boy for all she cared. She didn’t want him to marry, didn’t want him legitimized, and most days she didn’t even want to look at him if she could avoid it and would deny him a place at the dinner table.

Unfortunately for her she was the only one that saw him that way. Because to the rest of the family Jon was as much of a Stark as she was, and she was born a Tully. Arya liked to point that out to her whenever she brought up Jon’s birth, she always made the most hilariously face in Arya’s opinion, red and full of wrinkles. Her father would always quiet down the heated argument before she got to feel her mother's true fury, which was lucky because Catelyn could be as much a terror when angry as she could be the equivalent of a goddess at any other time.

Arya always thought that her father was better than her mother, the fact that he had common sense was a big part of that reason. He was a smart man, he was a lord after all, it was required of him, That and he rarely forced Arya to do things, and if he did it was usually done because it was a necessity that even Arya acknowledged and would abide to, like it or not.

There had obviously been times when she had been angry with him, times when she felt mistreated, but it usually resorted itself after he’d talked with her and actually explained to her why it needed to be done that way. Even times when she still felt angry with him after an explanation and still didn’t agree, she had forgiven him, because her love for him was deeper than the anger that fueled her.

However, this had always been after the deed was done and over with, it had never been a permanent necessity… not like this.

The beginning of her misery started about a week ago, when her father had received a letter from an envoy who had arrived through the gates of Winterfell in the bleak cold night. She had woken up that night due to the commotion he'd brought with him, people yelling and servants running through the halls of the castle and into her parent’s champers further down the hall.

She’d listened through the crack of her doorframe then, as her parents broth rushed passed her door with great haste. She’d run back to her small window and kneeled herself onto one of her chairs as she watched the light of torches rush outside, there her father greeted the envoy and lead him inside… and then it’d gotten quiet once more.

The next morning her father had looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept the rest of the previous night. He stared into the meat tray with his hands folded by his mouth, only moving when her brother, Rickon, asked him what was wrong, and even then he’d just brushed it off claiming it was nothing. She’d looked to her mother then in search of a reaction, but she seemed not to mind it at all, simply picking at her food as she caressed Sansa’s long red hair along her sisters back with a small satisfied smile on her face.

Arya later asked Sansa if she knew, but of course she didn’t, in fact her sister said she didn’t even care that much, said it wasn’t for her to worry about, it was their fathers. Even if Sansa was right, it still made Arya uneasy whenever her father would glance at her for the remaining the days.

It was early morning two days later after that night, when her father sent the envoy back through the gates of Winterfell with a letter, sealed with the Stark sigil. That same day, she spoke with Jon who had been looking at her with an apologetic eye, and he’d touched her hair more than she was used to as they’d spoken. His dark eyes held hers carefully, something different to his usual shiftiness.

Arya knew he’d held something back; he just didn’t tell her and for some reason she was nervous to ask what it was too. She’d wanted to speak with Robb too, but he had been sent to the different villages surrounding Winterfell all week and hadn’t been home, but given how he arrived on the day of her doom, she knew he had heard from farther already. It was punctual, as he always was, and she was standing in the staples, grooming her horse observing the dust that blew up from its thick coat and mane.

Robb and his men came back trotting through the gate, and as if already searching for her, his eyes stuck to her, brows wrinkled yet remained calm as she threw down the brush into the hay beneath her and ran over to him, leaping into a hug.

The first thing she realized was that he reeked of sweat and horse shit, but maybe it was just herself. The second thing was how hard he squeezed her, a hand coming up to brush her hair just like Jon had done days before. She hadn’t thought much of that either, and simply smiled up at him when she was put down, eager to ask him about his trip, and he was willing to share he'd said, as soon as he’d gotten a shower. Too that was.

Too excited to wait for the stories, she offered to let her take his horse so that he could go and polish up quickly, and while he took her up on her offer, she didn’t feel like it was because he wanted to hurry so he could tell her about his trip. Because as she began to pull his horse away towards the stable, her father called out to her, asking to see her in the great hall,  and she could see it in his eyes then, whatever it was he’d been thinking about for the past week he was going to share with her now, and a knot in her stomach told her that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know anymore.

She’d gotten someone to finish up for her, and rushed through the castle and into the great hall, a few hesitant moments afterwards she met with her father, Catelyn, Sansa, Robb, Rickon and Brandon. They were all there except for Jon, she immediately wanted to question it as soon as she also recalled not having seen him since last time they spoke two days ago, however her heart was already too far up her own throat to get out the words.

No one was sitting, her father was standing by the fire, her mother beside him. Rickon and Bran stood by the table leaning up against it like a pair of books, and looked just as confused as Arya did. Sansa stood in the middle of the room, her hands tucked neatly behind her, looking just as calm as she always did, and Robb stood by the window and looked at her just as he’d done earlier… not polished in the slightest from his trip.

A servant shut the door behind her, and she walked up next to Sansa, she hadn’t seemed affected by the tension in the room, if anything she seemed at home in it. Arya assumed it was because she already knew what was going to happen, but she disregarded that thought as she reminded herself that if she’d really known she would’ve already told Arya in her usual condescending manner too eager to brag about her knowledge to keep it in. Her father had sighed and turned around with a heavy expression as he looked his two daughters in the eye.

 “I already assume that each one of you know that a couple of days ago we had a visitor in the night. Whether it be told by someone or seen with your own eyes I’m here to tell you that that man brought with him a letter sealed with the Kings emblem… In it bringing word that his son, Joffrey Baratheon, is finally of age…”

Her father held his breath for just a brief second, before their mother gave him a slightly annoyed glance, she likely didn’t want this tension to linger in the air more than necessary.

“-Meaning, it is time to join our families, and to fulfill the promise that was made between our houses long ago.” Their father continued “This is why, I have with great honor and respect accepted this engagement between you, my dear Sansa, and the prince… As well as you, Arya, to one of his other sons.”

Arya’s heart had dropped from her throat and into a dark pit in her stomach in an instant so sudden she  felt the urge to throw up and scream as cold sweat ran down her spine like a pearls of ice. Her hands felt clammy and sticky with the same sweat, and the corset round her stomach suddenly felt ten times tighter around her abdomen. Had she worn it, she would have taken her dragger and drawn it into her gut as the pinching she did to her left hand didn’t seem to overwhelm the pain she was feeling in her chest.

She felt squished and cramped, as if no space in all of the seven kingdoms were big enough to loosen up the air around her that laid like stones in her lungs. She was aware that she wasn’t moving, but at the same time she was certain that the fireplace her father stood in front of was coming closer and that the walls were bending inwards over her head. It quickly became clear that the swirling of the room was due to the lack of air she was inhaling, because as soon as her sisters hand landed on her shoulder her lungs caved in on themselves and forced her to draw breath, which only made her nearly hyperventilate as she felt like she was no longer in control of her body.

Her feet heavy like boulders, and her head lighter than the of fine feathers that made her pillows.

Her ears popped as the wood broke in the fireplace, and Sansa called her name softly, her blue eyes gently searching Arya’s. Arya couldn’t help thinking her sister insane in that moment, she was just so calm and collected, as if nothing their father said to them was a surprise or the most horrifying thing in the world. She acted as if it was expected and normal, like she wanted it to happen, which Arya shouldn’t have to question, because of course it was what she wanted, Sansa had known nothing if not stories of knights and princesses and gold and silver. Arya even recalled her saying that love and marriage was her purpose in life, Arya remember laugher her ass off after she’d said it, it was hilarious... now it was not, now no words in the world was more true than that.

Arya killed off a sob in her throat, and blinked away the burning in her eyes as she repeated the lines over and over in her head, “Father-” She squeezed out, a cry begging to be let out, and runing her attempt to sound angry. Ned ignored her though, simply continuing like she hadn't spoken at all.

“We will be traveling to King's landing in a fortnight, while I’m be gone Robert will be acting in my place. Rickon, you are to be send over to your aunt Lysa as a representative of house Stark in the upcoming event of your cousin’s coming of age feast. Brandon is to stay home and accompany your brother as the next in line for the title as Lord of Winterfell.”

Arya felt ignored, and as she stood and choked on her own words, watching her brothers nod in understanding towards their father, each being given a respectable task, _she_ was to be sold like a mare.

“Father I refuse.” She’d stated, her hands turning into fists in the skirt her aggravating dress. Ned simply shook his head lightly and have a short exhale in response. “Arya, my dear, this is not to be discussed.” He’d said casually, while refusing to look her in the eyes as he leaned over the table.

“No! I won't do it father, you can’t just agree-” She finally yelled.

“Arya Stark! This is your father’s decision and your duty as a lady of house stark you cannot-” Her mother interrupted her face red with anger and eyes fuming to be respected, however Arya refused to have her mother interrupt her this time, and snapped back.

“Why isn’t Sanas’ marriage enough? She’s the eldest and is willing to go through with it, she’s the one that wants this, not me! Father please-”

Ned’s eyes suddenly turned furious as he slammed his palm into the dark wooden table, silencing Arya, and let the sound echo throughout the room, sending a shiver down each of the children's arms.

Ned was rarely angry, he was a man with composure and honor, meaning he rarely let his emotions run wild and hardly rose his voice, only letting his tone harden and his words speak for him if he wished to let himself made clear. However, this time was different, this time his neck turned red and the wrinkles on his forehead dug deep into his skin like that of a hound’s neck. His nose twitched and he huffed through his nostrils, watching Arya with ice cold eyes.

“Arya you will do as I say, and you will behave throughout this process, you will go with your sister and I to Kings landing and you will marry your kings son and that is final, you do you hear me girl!?” His voice was booming, deep and loud, shaking Arya to the bones, her breath blow out of her as she paled with his words, the mere essence of what he was ordering her to do making her want to shatter like glass before her family's eyes.

She felt the burning sensation build up behind her eyes once again, and she knew there was no holding it this time, not even the teeth she dug into her lip was enough to keep the tears at bay. Her breath started to shake and her hands now twitched at her side as she became unbelievably aware of how cold beneath her bare feet was in strong contrast to how hot her throat was turning.

Her eyes glanced over at Robb, who’s lips parted as if he wanted to speak up but simply couldn’t find the words to, and she was thankful she didn’t have to listen to his consolation, after he’d been given such a big honor what would he know. She’d suppose that for a lady, what she’d received was just as big an honor, but if that was the case then why did she feel like she was getting tossed to the side like rotten fruit.

She envied her brother Brandon more than anyone in the room for the first time in her life, at least he still had his freedom, and would be allowed to stay here at home. In fury and without further word she turned on her heel and stormed out, the large door booming behind her as she slammed it shut and rushed to her room. She’d ripped off the corset around her, the stitching ripping apart as she pulled with all her might and threw it into the flames, watching with a heavy breath how the silk ribbon curled, shrunk and burned.

She felt a brief moment of satisfaction as she watched it turn into ash before her, but didn’t waste much time before she pulled the cursed dress over her head, and shivered from the cold as she stood in only her undergarment, a heavy sob finally escaping her throat as she blinked out steaming hot tears down onto her cheeks.

Arya covered her mouth to suppress it, but there was no stopping it, it was clogging up her breathing and she stood there for only a moment, watching her cold blue toes as the tears dripped down from her cheek and onto the face of her feet. She curled under her furs on her bed, and let her sobs and cries fill her room throughout the night as she continued her refusals inside her mind, and let her body sink into the bed and become numb.

She didn’t leave her bed the next day and didn’t even notice when the sun had risen nor fallen as the days passed. She saw only darkness, and heard only her soft breathing after the last flame had died out in the fireplace, making the air icy once more. Arya paid it no mind however, the covers were warm enough since she didn’t move, but even then again she thought that if she was to die from the cold in her champers, then so be it, and when her stomach cried for food, she made another thought to herself, would she rather die of hunger or the cold?

She assumed hunger would hurt more than becoming numb by the cold and then slowly dying, of course she had tried neither so she could only make assumptions that that was how it went down, but she would find out sooner rather than later if she kept this up… which ever came first of course.

She couldn’t sleep, she refused to, her mind was clogged with nightmares that made her sick to the stomach. Having to watch her sister get married and then herself, it was horrid. The worst part of it was that she couldn’t even place a face on the man she’d been sold to, not that she concerned herself too much with that issue, it didn’t matter what he looked like if she died before they could even meet after all… but still, she wondered if he cared as much about this as she did.

It was hard to image, after all, he got a lady who was forced into his submission could take advantage of whenever he saw fit. She’d be no better than a whore, a whore with a noble duty… what a glorious honor. The thought of it made her sick, so she tried never think about it, she didn’t want to, she’d only heard sounds before, and while she never felt any interest in knowing more, she could already tell that there was nothing amazing about it like everyone claimed there to be

It sounded horrid and made her skin crawl, they might as well have been stabbed they screamed so much, but she assumed that the screaming meant that it really was forced upon them… Honorable duty, what a joke a lady’s duty was to scream, and nothing says honor and respect like screaming and crying while men had their way with their bodies.

At one point she heard a light knock on the door breaking the silence into her room, but she didn't respond, she wanted whoever it was to go away and find her later when she’d died and the blood had clogged in her veins. To her dissatisfaction however she heard the door open lightly, and the sound of Robbs warm voice call into the room. “Arya.” She didn’t move at his call, she just continued to pretend that she wasn’t there, even though she was sure that the lump her body made under the covers of fur gave her away… and they weren’t kids anymore, Robb would not play along this time around.

She heard him step into room, closing the door behind him and shiver when he noticed the lack of a fire. He cursed lightly under his breath, and she heard him walk over to her fireplace and began to build a fire. Tears swelled up in her eyes once again at sound of flint and steel grind together, and her stomach turned as she left the pressure of her brothers body sink into the bed next to her, a hand stroking her above the furs silently.

She finally let out a light sob and Robb sighed out into the air before speaking, “Arya it's your brother, Robb.” She wanted to roll her eyes, she knew it was him he didn’t have to say, still it warmed her heart as his voice changed from a whisper into its normal raspy self, soothing her as he tried to comfort her with a clear way of knowing how to.

“I know you’re upset, and I understand you, truly I do, but-” Robb stopped himself to find the right words, knowing he had to pick his words wisely as a sensitive Arya had a knack of overflowing pretty quickly.

“Arya… would you at least come out so that I can see you hmm?”

He might’ve asked, but he hadn’t given her much time to act on his request before he slowly pulled off the covers from her head, revealing Arya’s red and puffy eyes accompanied by pale cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut to adjusted to the new light before peaking up at him, his curls wet and damp over his forehead and he smelled like sweat and iron meaning he’d just finished training.

He had dirt on his cheeks that melted together with his new stubble, but most importantly he was wide eyed at the sight of her. Sore from laying on one side for more than who-knows- how-many-days, Arya slowly picked herself up from her covers, only now feeling the true chill from her room on her shoulders. Robb muttered her name has he rose a hand to stroke her cheek gently his warm thumb swiping away a tear as it made its way down from the corner of her eyes.

Arya didn’t think it’d been possible that she’d had any more water in her body to continue crying even if she wanted to, and she had a headache which made her feel all the more miserable and tired. She blinked down into her hands as they folded in her lap, she really did seem pathetic and she hated looking weak, especially in the eyes of her brothers who were the only ones to ever call her strong.

“Why me?”

It came out almost as a whisper, her throat so dry it made it hard to speak. It wasn’t as much of a question to him as it was to herself, she had thought about it all night and day and she still couldn’t find the answer she so desperately needed to go on. Robb exhaled, having heard her question clearly, and let the hand on her cheek fall to her cold hands rubbing them lightly as he spoke up.

“Arya, I understand your frustration with this, but this is how it’s always been for us nobles, and we will all have to go through it one day. It’s a part of our duty as children of house Stark, you cannot forget that, no matter what… Father didn't mean for it to hurt you, truly, he just wants what's best for us all, you should know that better than anyone of us.”

“I still don't understand why it has to be me, he is marrying Sansa to the prince, what more could he benefit from selling me off as well?” Arya muttered and Robb sighed again.

“He’s not selling you Arya ,stop phrasing it that way, you’re marrying a lord. Father is good friends with King Robert you know this, isn’t obvious that by marrying you two to two of his sons our connection with the crown become twice the better? With everything going around lately he wants you two to be safe and secure, nothing else, marrying you into the king’s family is the safest you could ever be.”

“Being here with you, my family, is the safest I can ever be. How can I be safe with a stranger who will only use me to their benefit?”

Robb didn't answer her question but simply looked away, he'd noticed how she was shivering in his hands and rubbed her hands a little harder before looking into her grey eyes once more, trying to smile.  “You have to be brave Arya, as I said you are not as alone in this as you think, we will all suffer the same fate at some point, I ask of you that you be as brave as you’ve always have been and at least try to live with this, for the family.”

Arya let out a sob and let her head drop onto her brothers shoulder, her tearless cries making her shoulders jolt and arms shiver as he wrapped her into an embrace and lightly lulled her for a moment. It was then, as he stroked her hair, that she recalled her other brother and pulled her head up.

“Where is Jon? He wasn’t at the meeting either, why isn’t he here?”

Immediately Robb gaze became heavy with a sense of confusion and let go of his hold around her arms. “He is no longer here, he went to the wall, didn’t he tell you? He left days ago.”

It felt like another blow to her stomach, and she held her breath for a moment as she thought about the last time she and him had spoken, he’d seemed so heartbroken back then, but he’d never told her about his leaving, not even hinting at it.

“What? Why?” She finally pushed out.

“I'm not sure, he didn’t tell me, father simply said that he’d made his choice not too long ago… but I'm afraid that he won't come back.” Arya got choked up yet again, the fact that Jon had left her, without a word notice or a chance for her to convince him otherwise he’d just left.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” She choked out, she felt alone, utter and alone and he’d chosen the time when she needed him the most to hold onto the leave her in the cold.

Arya knew about the Wall, it was said to be a place where bastards and murderers goes to die, and never return, should they even attempt to they would get sentenced to immediate death by the cruelest of hands. Jon was a man of honor, like their father, he would never attempt to go back on his word when he’d made it, so if he’d decided to leave then he really wasn’t planning on coming back. She assumed it wouldn’t have mattered for much longer anyways though, seeing as she was being sent away as well, only difference being she didn’t chose it for himself… guess even Jon was more free than her.

As the next few days continued Arya was forced into continuing her life, Robb would make sure she ate and kept herself warm enough so that she wouldn’t freeze to death. She hadn’t spoke to her father at all since the family meeting, she simply refused to. If he’d regretted what he’d said, she wouldn’t have known given that she couldn’t even get herself to look at him without wanting to cry to find out.

Her mother had ignored her sadness whenever Arya hadn’t hidden the fact away from her, she was no longer allowed on the horses and she’d taken her swords and daggers away from her. These was the last two weeks was her mother's final chance in making a lady out of Arya, and she made sure to make the most of it.  Catelyn made sure she could hold her posture, eat with the right manners, checked her stitching, made her diet so she could fit into the finest of dresses and forced her to brush her hair everyday twice a day. She taught her different braids and a way to curl her hair, she used fine oils on her skin and skinned her body of hair, even the delicate parts of her body… basically she forced Arya to go through eighteen years of etiquette lessons in two day, and Arya was a mindless rag doll through all of it

Arya felt like a fish, slippery and slimy. She noticed how Sansa got twice the treatment when they bathed not, only difference being she enjoyed it. She was to wed the crown prince so it was a given, but still, Arya could hardly imagine what _she_ would’ve felt like in her position.

The dreadful day finally came when Arya and Sansa was to be forced into, what Arya imagined to be the smallest carriage in existence, accompanied by a train of northerners all just to be shipped off like cargo. Arya had trouble letting go of her brothers that day, her arms working like locks around each of their necks as she hugged them, holding herself from crying. Robb had whispered words of encouragement into her hair and kissed her forehead gently as they gave their farewells, stroking her shoulders and holding them up right as he gave her one last smile. Her mother embraced her carefully, and planted multiple kisses on her temples and cheeks smiling into them as she hugged her youngest daughter.

Arya noticed she had teary eyes, but she gazed at her with such prominent pride and gentleness that one could almost forget how much frustration the two had inflicted upon each other all these years.

“You be good to your husband now, and remember you. are. a. Stark, no matter what name you marry into my dear, you will forever be Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I will make sure to write to you as often as the winds will let me, you have my word.”

She said, placing one last kiss on her daughter’s cheek before her father took her hand and lead her to the carriage, placing her next to her sister who was wiping off warm tears from her shining skin. Arya leaned her head back as they departed, while Sansa’s head and arm was stretched out to let her wave for as long as her eyesight would let her.

\--

It took a month before they reached the gold and red walls of King's landing. The city was packed, and there was more people in this city than Arya had ever laid her eyes upon before. Everyone wore such little and thin clothing cotton was traded for silk and boots for sandals. There was cloths that kept the sun from frying their skulls instead of hats of fur to warm around the ears. Arya thought it looked fascinating, while Sansa had wanted to jump out of the cart and buy one for herself, luckily for Arya her father said there was no time for that sort of thing.

Sansa had nodded and agreed, saying that she would have plenty of time to buy all the accessories in the world when she married the prince. Arya thought she might finally be back to her normal self because she felt an urge to gag do to her sisters remarks again.

They were greeted at the castle with soldiers, servants and other nobility, however as were her family would have stood at the ready to greet their guests, they had to walk into the throne room where the great fat king himself, King Robert Baratheon, sat on the iron throne, a fat grin already buttered onto his face as they came up to stand before him.

Her father and the king kicked it off immediately, both of their deep booming laughter filling the throne room, and as they talked Sansa’s eyes roamed around calmly getting to know her home-to-be. Arya on the other hand felt no need for exploration, and kept her eyes on her hands as they folded in and out of each other like a tapestry.

The air there was dry, very dry, not to mention hot as she noticed fires hurled around pillars in giant cages, it felt very unnecessary to her, it wasn’t like they needed the extra heat after all. She’d spaced out before a fat stomach approached them both and stood proudly presented in front of the two girls. Ned reached out his hand and held Sansa in his, an equally proud, yet much more modest smile on his lips.

“Your grace, may I introduce my eldest daughter Sansa.” He said, and the king eyed her beautiful red hair with a neat eye before chuckling to himself.

“With a beauty such as she, how can she not be yours, Joffrey will be thrilled to meet you my dear that much I promise.”

Sansa smiled shyly at his remark, and Arya had to hold herself back not to openly scuff at the look on her face, but before she got to Ned had taken Arya’s small hand in his which she immediately wanted to retreat but held back on doing to endure her father presentation of her.

“My youngest daughter Arya.” he introduced her, and immediately her hand went from the familiar warmth of her fathers into the strange, crusty and thick ones of the kings. He looked at her like she expected an starving man to look at roasted chicken, wide eyed and mouth agape. He stroked her hand lightly, making Arya want to scream and kick him off her, but had to make do with just a tight jaw a tooth in her tongue.

“In all my years, you weren't kidding Ned, she’s the spitting image…” the king murmured, turning his attention to their fathers before staring back at her, the glitter still in his dark and baggy eyes.

“You are a sight to behold my dear, you really are Lyanna reborn, I would’ve never imagined the sight to be this uncanny, I feel as if It is almost a shame, you’ll be wasted on Gendry. That bastard doesn't know his luck does he?” The king chuckled as he let go of Arya, who felt a nervous chill with the first ever mention of her betrothed husband.

She ran the name through her head a couple of times, came to acknowledge that she didn’t know anyone with the name and wondered if it was a common name in the south or if it meant something.  She didn’t get to do much thinking however, as her father called out to the two sisters as Robert pulled him away from the two, telling them that they were free to go explore the castle for now while they did some catching up.

Arya sighed as her sister took her arm, and asked for her to chin up before going out through one of the side doors, dragging her along. They walked through many halls before ending up in the gardens, Sansa walking around with her nose high and blushing cheeks, and Arya sloughing, small in comparison, her attention was on the soldiers who were standing guard around every corner and every bush.

She would notice how each had their hand on their swords and the way their gold cloaks reached their feet and lay in layers by behind them and wonder whether or not that wasn’t an obstacle for them when fighting. She wondered if they felt hot under all that metal, she knew she was hot in the silk dress she’d been stuffed into, and that she’d much prefer a seat in the shade instead of walking in the middle of a dusty path on a high noon.

While Arya was losing herself to an empty train of thoughts, Sansa had spotted a patio with the view of the ocean just ahead of them, her eyes widen and voice started squeaking as she looked out over the deep blue water, pulling Arya along as he rushed on her feet to get there

“Arya, the ocean! I don't believe I’ve ever seen it so close, look how it sparkles!”

Arya wrinkled her nose as she pulled herself up on the ledge of the stone railing and turned herself so she could see out over the ocean. Sansa had been right; the ocean was pretty and it did sparkle in the heating sun, the darkness from the waves and light blue color from the sky was a nice contrast to she would admit. It looked still and vast, and she knew it would only continue further beyond the horizon until who-knew-where.

Arya recalled the time Robb and Jon had come home from their first sea voyage, at the time Arya had been green with jealousy as they had told her younger self that the blue of the ocean was so deep that it sometimes looked black, and that you couldn’t reach the bottom in one breath the ground was so far down. She’d been amazed at the time, and she still was whenever she remembered their stories, however it was not it’s depth that interested her as much as it’s reach… Arya wanted to know where it ended, or even it could.

“Oh Arya it’s going to be amazing here, I can already tell, the sun baking like this together with the sea breeze… I can hardly wait to begin living here.” Sansa sighed as she stared out onto the ocean, her eyes shining like pearls already.

“You don't sound like you’re from the north, Winterfell is much more beautiful... and much more berable.” Arya huffed as she stared down onto incoming ships as they pulled up their sails.

“Oh please, I love the north, it's my home, but don't you find it exciting to see something new for a change? Something other than snow and ice?”

“Yes, I just enjoy choosing when I see it, I wasn’t tired of the snow… or the ice.” She mumbled but Sansa heard her all the time as if she hadn’t. “You know you’ve been nothing but a drag this entire time, I get that you don't want to marry someone you haven’t met, neither do I, but we have to make out what we can from it.”

Arya narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You don't like it? You’ve been nothing but hearts and butterflies since father told us we were leaving.”

“How would you know? You’ve been too self-important know what I think of it.”

“What you’re telling me you find this dreadful then?” Arya shot her an askance look, which Sansa shook her head at.

“No I don't find it _dreadful_ as you put it, I’ve just come to terms with this a bit earlier than you have, and you would too had actually listen to what mother taught us about duty when growing up instead of playing soldier with Jon and Rickon.” Arya huffed at Sansa’s prudent response, there was nothing to come to terms with, she didn’t want to marry, and now she was being forced into it, she didn't’ want to accept it so she didn’t, telling her earlier would’ve changed nothing.

Arya held a breath before speaking further, changing subject in a poor attempt not to let her sudden somberness obvious with the mention of home. “So, do you think he’ll be nice, your little husband-to-be?” She teased, but Sansa only shrugged nonchalantly.

” One can only hope, I only know his name and title after all, but if he's anything like his father I think I’ll get by. What about you?”

“I hope he’s an ass so I won't feel bad when I murder him in his sleep, that and father might not punish me as badly for it… I could just lie and do it anyways actually, no one would be the wiser.” She spoke dryly flicking off a pebble from her seat, as Sansa gasped before looking over her shoulder.

“Arya, behave! Do you know what they’ll do to you if they hear you say that? He’s a lord, not some peasant!” Arya merely rolled her eyes, “So what, if they kill me I’ll be free from this marriage, and I don't have to stay in this fucking heat for much longer, it’ll be a win-win.” she shrugged her shoulders loosely as she gazed up at the cloud-free sky with the burning ball of flesh melting heat that shun down upon them.

“Luckily you aren’t going to live here then, I’ve heard the Stormlands have a different kind of chill about them.”

“The Stormlands?” Arya asked, a curious look rising to her eye, while her sister look as if she suddenly wanted to laugh at her. “Well of course, you didn’t actually think you were going to live here were you? You are marrying the Lord of Storm's End why would you think you were going to live in King's Landing?” She explained smugly

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Arya blinked.

“Are you saying you’ve been so cooped up in your own problems you haven’t even begun to ask who it is you are marrying?” Arya didn’t respond, just simply gazed out into nothing for a hesitant moment, which was about as clear of an answer as Sansa could’ve asked for.

“Arya!” Her sister called in disbelief, pulling Arya away from her unexpected fixation.

“What! Why would I ask about such things? Wait, why have you asked about it?” Arya sparked and glanced down at her gossip-happy sister, “Well there weren’t exactly need for me to ask about mine, and I figured you knew already, I was curious why else?.”

Arya huffed, figuring her sister right, but still strangly offended by her snooping into her matters. “So what else do you know of him?”

“Nothing more than that, father didn’t know a whole lot either apparently, said he wouldn’t need to when it came to the king.” “Well that's fucking great, he'll marry me off to a man he doesn't even know himself.” Arya sighed deeply, picking at her fingernails as a tick of annoyance.

Sansa couldn’t hide the smile her little sisters comment forced on her lips. “You’ll have to do something about that cursing soon, your husband might not enjoy a lady so... uncivil.”

Arya wanted to make a comment about her not really caring about what he liked, when a long haired blond beautiful woman walked down onto the patio with them, her hair pushed back into a braided crown and her remaining blond waves framing her chest like a heart. Arya jumped back down from her seat as Sansa was quick to bow down to the tall nosed lady, becoming stiff when she opened her mouth to speak, letting out a warm toned voice.

“You two must be the Stark girls, I heard of your arrival, it's a pleasure to meet you two, I know my husband has been very excited to finally meet you.” The lady said, clearly faking a smile as she bowed her head in a greeting towards the two sisters, and strangely Arya didn’t feel as flattered by her comment after noticing.

“Now, which one of you is Sansa?” She asked with a honey voice, making Sansa step forward and bow down, trying to mimic her slow grace to perfection. “I am, your Grace.”

Only at the sound of her sister’s voice had Arya realized who the lady actually was, and was then quick to straighten her back and sink a lump down her throat. Her efforts to look to dignified went ignored however, with the lady placing a light hand on her sister's shoulders not sparing Arya a glace as she continued to exam her posture and pulling yet another fake smile.

“Oh little dove, it could only be you, you are as pretty as the letters described, I'm sure Joffrey will be pleased. He’s been so excited to meet you.” Sansa blinked briefly at the Queens flattery before smiling just as softly.

“And I him, oh and your grace this is my sister; Arya, she’s to marry your-”

“Lord Baratheon, yes so I’ve heard.” The queen interrupted Sansa abruptly eyeing Arya closely, a slight twitch forming in the corner of her mouth as she watched Arya’s features closely, “I can imagine the king must be so thrilled for you… now I would enjoy speaking with you my dear, after all there is a grand wedding to be planned, would you mind?”

The queen wrapped her arm under Sansa’s in an attempt to pull her with her, and while not confident she wished to be left alone in this garden, Arya waved a light hand at her sister telling her she could go with ease and watched as they turned around the left Arya alone, glad she didn't have to listen to anymore of the backhanded compliments from that sugary tongue.

\--

In the evening Arya arrived at the feast much like she’d arrived in the morning, nothing different other than having brushed her hair once again due to the awkward wind that came in from the east and have left it in an inexcusable state even to her. When she arrived her sister and father were already at the high table talking and drinking as they saw fit enjoying various company.

Arya noticed a chair next to her sister which was clearly saved for her, yet she didn’t feel like going up there, finding it much more enjoyable to be able to blend in with the rest of the servants and guest who was stuffing themselves with wine and meat much the same quality served to the king and his table.

The corset around her stomach had already made her lose her appetite, and she was sure that if she did eat whatever food given to her it would only make the corset tighter around her stomach and have her spiral into further difficulties. She gazed up at her sister who sat and chatted eagerly with a blond-haired boy as he twirled wine around in his glass and gold cup, he looked smug in Arya’s own opinion but she wasn’t sure if that was just because she wanted him to be an ass or if he really was one. She looked his to right where his mother, the queen, sat idly by and next to her the King who chatted up a storm with her father, but that was it, no one else worth mentioning at the high table… which seemed questionable to say the least.

She could have been wrong, but seeing that now Sansa had gotten to meet her future-to-be she wondered if she’d maybe been missing out on something, like a meeting she hadn’t been invited to. Because she had sworn there was supposed to be two young and possibly blond men at said table. Not that she minded it that much of course, only that her curiosity had started to peak a bit everyone’s constant fuss, and as she’d gotten to know more, she felt as if she kind of had to at least see him from afar to get rid of the knot in her stomach.

Taking her chance Arya weaved her way through mass of people and up towards her sister to at least have someone she knew around. The king’s uproar was what stopped her in her tracks however, as he called out her name in a drunken and slurred manner.

“If it isn’t Lady Arya Stark, we were wondering when you’d show up, figured you’d been lost in these great halls. Your fat fuck of a father told me you had a keen eye for disappearing, but I was about to call out the hounds for heaven's sake!”

His laughter was booming as he wrapped his arm tighter around her father's neck and gulping down more of the wine in his mug. Arya wasn’t sure she wished to respond to that, and merely continued her way up the steps, she pulled out her chair out to sit herself next to her sister who’s cheeks had been reddened by the wine, but still had her right mind enough to at least speak in coherent sentences.

“Arya, there you are, you have to say hello to Joffrey. Your grace this is my sister Arya, she’s to marry your brother.” The small twink of a boy leaned over the table and stared at Arya for a bit, he was clearly a bit drunk like his father, so his confusion perhaps easily disregarded, “What, Tommen? He isn’t of age yet…. even though she sure does look his age.” Joffrey gave up a jolting laugh, one of which made him sound like a donkey in Arya’s ears.

She’d restrained herself from frowning too much at his comment, and instead simply focused on the name dropping of his apparent younger brother. Sansa shook her head lightly and pushed him back into his seat, finding it rude of him to cross her chair without permission most likely.

“No, no your Grace, your brother Gendry, Lord of Storm's end.” Sansa stated lightheartedly, shooting an apologetic eye towards her sister who only rose a brow in response. Joffrey paused in his tracks, taking a second to reflect before laughing out into the air, sounding nothing like his father yet again.

“Oh him, I'm sorry I got confused when you said my brother. You must be thrilled my lady, however I must warn you, he isn’t the most fun of people, doesn’t drink you see, that and he’s quiet the moron but that's a given since-” He mumbled something else into his cup that was incomprehensible as he drowned his words with wine.

 Arya scowled at his words, she didn’t know her future husband at all, but even so she was sure she shouldn’t take the prince’s word for it.

“I don't believe he’s here.” Sansa stated as she glanced around, and once more Joffrey shrugged lightly on his shoulders. “No he sure isn’t, maybe he didn’t want to come, maybe father forgot his invite, who’s to say, he never shows up to these types of things or so don’t I think, I’ve never seen him at one… Why? Is my lady curious to see if he is more handsome than me?” Joffrey eyed Sansa a curious took which Sansa took for sarcasm.

“Hardly your grace, I was just curious to meet the man I’m supposed to leave in my little sisters care. I'm sure she is too.”

“Want me to fetch him my lady? I’ll have someone drag him here if necessary, I know he’s in the castle somewhere, after all, it’s rude to leave one's future wife alone at a party.” The prince shot Sansa a - in Arya’s opinion - disgusting look before turning to her, to which she only shook her head.

“It’s quite alright I'm sure I’ll get to meet him eventually… your grace.” Arya said, almost forgetting the correct honorary. Joffrey didn’t seem to care nonetheless, and simply went back to drinking and fondling with Sansa’s red hair. Arya strangely felt bad for her older sister... but her giggly smile didn’t lie, her sister was happy then.

She didn’t want to stay too long, the noise from the instruments and the yelling of the people around her already bringing a headache to her temples. Arya sneaked out pratically unnoticed, partly because she was sure no one actually cared all the much what she stayed, and partly because she was sure everyone that did care was too drunk to notice her to begin with.

She headed out into the dark halls, trying to find hers and Sansa’s chambers, and while she liked to believe she was good with directions, even she felt lost in this maze they called a castle. She’d known Winterfell like the back of her hand, and now she hardly understood which direction was which and there was no stars around to guide her either.

Lost in thought and sleep driven she took a turn at the end of a hall, not expecting to be taken by surprise as she dumped into a large body emerging from the opposite direction. She let out a tiny yelp as she stepped backwards and started to trip in the hem of her dress, cursing the day it had been made as she pulled up the fabric around her ankles while the other helped her lean up against the wall and stop her from falling any further.

“Excuse me, I didn’t think anyone else would be around here.” she mumbled as she made sure there was no holes made from her mistake, not caring to look but at her obstacle

“No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” A deep and raspy voice spoke up, making her heard twirl up at the mere sound of it, where she came to stare up into clear blue eyes which were stuck to two calm lids with distinct dark lashes. The man was tall, yet it wasn’t exactly an achievement to tower over her she didn’t figure. He had incredibly dark crew-cut hair with and a light dark stubble to match, but what surprised her the most was the fact that his skin was covered in soot and dirt considering how a pale white and clean shirt peaked up from under one of his remaining loose buttons he had yet to button up from his dark leather coat.

She blinked at him once or twice, taking in the odd sight of him, before opening her mouth, “Well if you are going to the feast might I suggest turning around, it's pretty much over by now anyways, and everybody is too drunk to know or care if you are there anyways.” She stated as she dropped the fabric of her dress and pushed herself away from the wall.

The man looked over her head before scowling to himself and cursed under his breath for her not to hear, “I see, Thank you m’lady.” He said, and Arya couldn’t help but blink as the man continued to walk past her, hurrying down the hall where she came from towards the loud feast. She parted her lips in confusion and thought back to one of the few lessons she remembers her mom giving her about the proper use of titles, but dismissing it as quickly as it’d come to her.

\--

The next morning Arya turned gently underneath her covers as the morning sun shun into her champers, it annoyed her just a bit, as the sun in the south seemed to be so much brighter than the one up north which was most of the time hiding behind the cloud filled sky.

Arya groaned as she pulled herself up from the soft bed and looked around the room, she quickly noticed the soft breathing of her sister filling the room has her ears popped with the tight stretch of her jaw in a heavy yawn. She’d slept so soundly that she hadn’t even heard her sister return last night, which was more pleasant that she’d hoped her night’s rest to be. Kind of dreary to think that the only good thing she could mention about King’s landing was the fact that they had soft enough beds that could put even the most troubled of minds to rest, but knowing now that this wasn’t going to be her permanent home she didn’t care about it’s list of faults.

She itched the back of her head before she noticed the tray of food that had been placed on her bed side, somehow, she’d forgotten that she hadn’t actually eaten anything last night before going to bed until her stomach loudly reminded her. With a satisfied smile she reached over and pulled the tray onto her bed, and started picking at her food with her fingers, ripping apart the freshly baked bread, sipping on the cold water and nipping at the green grapes at her side with quiet joy.

Although she wasn’t used to eating fruits in the morning, she figured that it was a treat she could become used to, after having lived in the north there weren’t always the biggest amount of fruits laying around all the time.

After eating Arya pulled her legs over her bed and stared grimly at the dress she’d worn yesterday, and out of pure refusal, went to her trunk where her most plain and boring dress was curled up into a ball. With a sly look in her eye she pulled it up and tugged it over her head, it wasn’t exactly her usual pants and boots, but she was sure that something like this might get the point across all the same: She didn’t like being fancy. She exited the room after a quick comb of her hair, and doing her best attempt at a bun.

She’d strolled down the halls, searching for a familiar face, she knew her father’s chambers were around there somewhere, but she didn’t wish to see him anyways so what did it matter.

Having learnt no new faces yesterday, at least none of which she actually liked or cared for, she was forced to trot alone in the halls for hours until a servant came for her just before noon. She was led to one of the kings many champers, and the lady held open the door for Arya as she walked in, eyeing the room where the king sat, his head deep in papers and a drink by his side.

He gazed up at her as she walked down the stairs a grin forming on his lips as he leaned back in his seat. “My dear you continue to impress me each time I see you, but I guess it's a given when you are related, have a seat if you’d like.”

He gestured to a chair in front of him, and Arya obeyed even if she would’ve liked to have been standing and not be forced to stay longer than he wanted to keep her.

“You left the feast early last night my dear, why is that?” he asked curiously.

“I apologize, your grace, but I was simply too tired after the long journey to get down there, forgive me if I’d been rude in doing so.” Arya cringed at herself as she spoke like her mother, or Sansa for that matter, she wasn’t used to being the one needing to sound respectful so it all sounded wrong to her, and she’d been unable to detect that they’d been her own words for the first half of the sentence.

King Robert didn't seem to mind how unnatural she sounded however, and just continued to nod his head gingerly.

“Of course- of course my lady, that is understandable. Now enough of about the by gones, I know you must be much more curious as to why I dragged you here hmm?” He swung his hand around his cup of wine and drank, Arya nodded, but wasn’t so sure she’d agree with the king.

“Well, I seemed to have fathered an incompetent son. Eh- Gendry, I was told, seemed to have failed in attending the feast last night, I wanted to apologize on his behalf my lady, It's rude to leave a lady waiting after all.” He stated casually.

Arya needed to blink so that she wouldn’t roll her eyes, she hadn’t cared as much as they’d liked her to, truly she didn’t mind not meeting the guy at all, in fact they could be married without seeing each other at all and live their lives separately and she would have been completely contempt so long as she could return to Winterfell.

“it’s alright your grace, it seemed I had been too tired to notice regardless of the matter, I wasn’t offended.” She said with her most gentle voice and smile.

The king nodded his head vividly. “Yes-Yes I understand that my dear, but you must be curious to meet him at least, he’s my son after all, Lord of Storm’s End and all of that. A fine young lady such as yourself must have been down right static to lay eyes on your future husband, and you traveled so far, yet I have failed to give you the satisfaction of even that of the most simplest of pleasures, and I'm the bloody King! It Should be a jolly dance to have the two of you meet, yet it has not happened yet, a shame I tell you, a disgrace to your royalties!”

He bloomed a deep laugher, one of which she wasn’t too sure she was supposed to reply to either, so she settled with another smile, not wanting to, yet again, explain how it was alright that she hadn’t been granted that pleasure. His laughter withered as quickly as it’d come with the notice of her face, and broke it into a uncomfortable cough.

“No in all seriousness my lady you must forgive my boy, you see he is a bit of a workaholic… Much like myself, he loses track of time quite easily, not to say that he isn't exactly used to-” A knock on the door interrupted the king's sentence, and mad Arya’s heart jump into her throat.

“Come in.” Robert called, and Arya heard the door open up slowly, but couldn’t for the life of her make herself turn her head.

She didn’t know why, but she was suddenly too scared to look, nervous even, her eyes glued themselves onto the flowers in the background of the King’s chambers, and she noticed herself holding her breath. She heard the light footsteps of whoever came in, and she saw the king stand up from his chair in her peripheral vision and moved with a gesturing hand. “Ah, glad you finally found it in you to join us, I’d like you to introduce you to someone, this is Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell… My lady, I’d like you to meet my inexcusable son, Gendry… Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, and of course your future husband.”

Arya drew a shaky breath at the joyous tone of the King’s voice, her hands growing clammy, and sweat formed by her neck as she drew together all of her courage and remaining of her might, repeating her brothers words in her head as she slowly brought herself up from the chair and blinked as she turned her eyes to stare into a clear blue, with now wide open lids and black lashes, black crew-cut hair and a light stubble to match, but a clean face and a darker toned shirt for contrast… and then her breath escaped her in a string of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and Welcome to my first fanfic, I'm excited! 
> 
> I've had this idea in my head for a while and one night I just chose to write it down and thought why not post it. A thing I need to point out is that this a slow burn, and I found that I can't stress that enough to some people. The story was progressed a lot and things have started to "heat up" but for people starting this story expecting it all to happen right away I say; be patient with it. It's a long story so I won't judge people that find it too slow and long I know itsn't for everybody, but if you do choose to pick up this story I wanna thank you and I salute you, because you're a real trooper. 
> 
> I like to go in depth with my writing, obviously I've boiled it down (believe it or not) for this because this is just a side hobby and I don't wanna make it too long either. So expect a lot of detail and long descriptions, I try my best to stay true to the real chareters, even though it is a fanfic so obviously not completely. Which is why, esspecially with Gendrya, I find that it's hard to force on a romance right from the get go, just because I know they wouldn't act that way and it would just be weird to me. 
> 
> I should point out that English isn't my first language, although I like to think I'm decent enough that doesn't mean there won't be slip-ups here and there. I do proof read, things just slip past me sometimes since I do it so late at night.  
> (Currently in the process of re-reading everything and editing all chapters to minimise grammatic errors as well as fixing some of my wording if I find that I hate it, my style has changed a bit and I just want it all to be consistent.) 
> 
> But if you can see past all of that, and still wanna continue on with my story after hearing all of this, I want you to know that I have nothing but love and gratitude for you and I hope to hear your thoughts as you read this! Thank you and enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting and Meaning

Something in Arya’s chest dropped as soon as she laid eyes on him, and her breath got lighter in her lungs as he stepped further down from the steps. She recognized him from the night before, not that he had been an easy sight to forget, but for some strange reason, suddenly all the nervous tension in her shoulders loosened up when she was faced with his familiarity. She wasn’t sure why, he was still a stranger to her after all, but something about having already met him without really knowing who he was made her less scared of him now that his identity was made clear.

The man named Gendry didn’t seem to take their unannounced reunion the same way as she did though, in fact he seemed to have only tensed up further after having taken notice of her face, his broad shoulders shuddering as he straightened his back and swallowed something thickly that made his Adam’s apple throb. He looked at her as if he’d done something terrible to her, like a child scared to be told on, only Arya had no idea what that something would be. His thumb was switching between picking at his index and middle finger at his side, an anxious twitch of sorts she assumed, but it was certainly noticeable to her.

The tall man snapped back into reality with a vivid shiver and quickly bowed his upper body in a deep and tense gesture, Arya was sure that it was supposed to be the other way around but kept still as he averted his eyes from hers as he greeted her to stare down onto her boots.

“My lady, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

He was stuttering a bit as he greeted her, clearly nervous, but Arya could tell he was also holding a few things back, and when he cleared his throat his teeth bit into the insides of his bottom lip, pulling it a bit back… looking truly pitiful, which Arya thought unfitting on a man like him. Looking at him Arya realized that she herself had forgotten how to act in the midst of taking him in, and a visual frown appeared on her brow for a moment, which turned to shock when noticing how the king was eyeing her gingerly. 

She jolted her neck straight and did a small nod of her own, folding her hands neatly in front of her like she’d watched Sansa do before many times prior.

 “Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you too my lord.” She finished off with the same sense of uncertainty as him, she felt out of place mirroring his greeting when not knowing how to sound or respond to him properly. They had met before even if it was just for a short while, but maybe it was a good thing that they pretended otherwise in front of the King, who’d likely been excited for their meeting.

The King smacked his hands together in a loud and sudden clap, causing Arya to flinch in her spot, he bloomed a deep and warm chuckle as he grinned her way. 

“Well my dear a promise is a promise, I hope you can see it in your heart to forgive me with this act of generosity, and my boy as well of course, for having wasted your time last night by not showing up in time.”

King Robert smacked Gendry hard on the shoulder, one of which most people would’ve been stumbled by but Gendry took as a light nudge, and chuckled again with his satisfied grin and a knowing eye. Gendry didn’t meet her eyes however, merely continuing to stare into the ground by her feet with a hint of discomfort from either her or the king’s presence. 

Arya held back a loud sigh, she felt bad for him, having to stand and apologize to her for something she truly didn't find offensive in any way. She would’ve found it embarrassing if she stood in his position, but at the same time she might have been the odd one in this particular situation, knowing how a proper lady would have probably found it offensive to be left alone at a royal feast to fend for herself.

She was unsure as to how she was supposed to play it out with that in mind, she realized It might have done her some good to act up a bit, get on the kings good side by sounding offended and stomping in the ground, but at the same time she knew she was terrible at acting bratty and couldn’t find it in her to start faking tears...that was more Sansa’s schtick.

“It’s quite alright your grace, no harm has been done.” 

She sounded gross even in her own ears, her voice too sweet and too light to be her own. Robert let his hand drop from his son’s shoulder after a content nod, and went to sit down again, his face dropping the smile it’d carried, and his tone turning back into its deep demeanor.

 “Right, well I want you two to go and enjoy the rest of today together, to make up for his mistakes. I’ll make sure he will have no excuse to leave your side my lady, he shall be at your full disposal and give you his full undivided attention for as long as you wish it.”

Gendry's face twitched, he looked more displeased than even Arya did, his brows falling into a slant and his eyes into a lasting blink as he tried not to sigh loudly. Arya was glad to know that she wasn’t the only one not wanting further awkward tension, but it would seem that the world could care less about that she wanted now adays.

She didn’t get to respond before the King waved the two of them off, forcing them out of his chambers and into the open and quiet hall. Arya stood for a moment, contemplating what she should do now when it was just the two of them.

She could ask him to leave, or perhaps find an excuse for herself to leave, either way she wanted to escape this tense air as fast the gods would allow her and would say whatever for her to get there. Arya never got to the point of picking a rout for her plans however, before she noticed her said future husband start moving down the hall in a slow and steady pace, allowing her to follow once she gathered her composure, so she did just that, picking up the front of her dress and her pace to match his so she could walk by his side, her head only reaching his shoulder even though she kept her head held high and neck perfectly straight. 

They walked in silence for a moment as he led them out into the grand gardens, the same place Sansa and her walked a few days prior, before clearing his throat and speaking up, slowing his pace enough for Arya to allow herself to drop the hem of her dress and breathe out.

“I'm sorry m’lady, about last night, had I known it was you I would’ve never-”

Not wanting to hear another apology Arya waved him off with a light gesture of her hand. 

“Don't worry about it, I didn’t know it was you either so we are both at fault, seeing that I had left before you’d gotten the chance to show up in the first place… Hope you didn’t get into too much trouble.” 

Gendry blinked at her sudden change of demeanor, but he didn’t up on his surprise, just simply kept his tone at a similar level “No, you were right, they were too drunk to notice me.”

Arya smiled softly to herself, she enjoyed knowing she was right, always had, but didn’t continue the conversation for a while afterwards, partly because she didn’t know what else to say until she remembered something worth asking a turn further down the path. 

“The king called you a workaholic, I’ll assume that's why you were held up?” She asked out of nowhere, wrinkling her nose a tiny bit from the strong smell of pollen, suddenly curious to know what kind of work it had been seeing as though she had never known any lords whose job required them to get their hands that dirty like his were, even then she still noticed some aspects of dirt on his palms despite his obvious attempt at cleaning them.

Gendry made a hesitant grunt in his throat before speaking up, a simple yes being all he could muster, but the way he said it made her want to tease him all of a sudden.

 “Mind If I ask what it was? I mean, you did keep me waiting. So, which was it, handling the stocks Meeting with your advisors? preparing for war? Uh- an invasion perhaps?” 

Arya was sure it was none of those, still with the way he let out a low grunt from the back of his throat in opposition almost made her openly laugh at his strange demeanor, making her pompous questions worth asking.

“Something like that.” he mumbled quietly, leaving Arya displeased, after having hoped for some amusement, she’d been sure that this was a perfect time for a lord of his caliber to start showing off all of his power. She’d heard about it before during countless of feasts, how men brag about their wealth and power to entice women to join their beds.

Even the prince did it last night with Sansa, having obviously not successes given Sansa’s modesty and the rules surrounding an engaged couple. Not that such flaunter would’ve worked on Arya, she would’ve just simply found it amusing to at least hear... and later reject. 

Arya had already come to the conclusion that he was not like all the other noble men she’d been surrounded with growing up, in fact so far there was nothing noble about him at all. She judged him as a unsure, nervous, dirty, poorly spoken and just down right odd for a man of his status, and had he not looked like king Robert as definitely as he did she would’ve called him a phony for walking around with that silver stag on his shoulder.

But even though he looked like the king, it was hard to tell they were actually father and son, Gendry lacked the confidence and loud voice of his father. Something it appeared Joffrey had gotten instead, and Joffrey didn’t resemble him in the slightest, he’d copied the looks of his mother the queen instead, whereas Arya saw nothing of her at all in Gendry...neither physically or mentally.

Arya didn't judge him for his differences of course, her and Sansa were the same way, almost. Sansa was the spitting image of their mother where was Arya was… Well her aunt apparently, but Arya had always compared herself more to their father.

Ned had always told her of her aunt, everyone in Winterfell talked about her after all, he’d told her of their similarities when she’d been younger, and it hadn’t bothered her then, not as much as it did now that the King would point it out to her constantly… but since Arya had no way of knowing how actuate any of the claims were, she didn’t apply it to her own opinion.

She didn’t react when Gendry had caught her staring at him with her narrowed eyes, which it made him visibly uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat to hopefully make her stop while he forced his eyes  face ahead and maybe ignore her. She didn’t move her eyes though, she simply continued her row of questions.

“Are you always this timid?” She’d asked, and strangely she wanted to retract her words as soon as they left her mouth, seeing as though it was a rude question, one of which she was almost certain he would’ve lashed out on, since most men didn’t take kindly to be called out on their weaknesses so blatantly, and most definitely not have small young women such Arya point them out to them.

Although to her surprise, he didn’t.

He scratched his neck instead, and merely frowned a bit by her question, almost as if questioning it himself. He parted his lips to say something, but held it in a breath before exhaling lightly, responding to her question with one of his own.

“Are you always this direct?” He asked, Arya shrugged at the question losely, “It’s been pointed out to me once or twice yes. Why? Don't like it?”

She hoped he hated it, that he would find her so off putting that he would turn on his heel right then and there and stomp away, back into his father's campers and demand a new betrothed.

It was just her luck that he only rolled his shoulders in response and sighed defeatedly.

“I don't think it really matters what I like m'lady.”

Arya wasn’t sure what it related to, but his words had left a bad taste in her mouth regardless, and she was hesitant to respond to it at first, removing her eyes from the side of his face to look towards the brightly lit gravel road they were following… Speechless and awfully flustered.

She hadn’t thought much of it since she had been lying in her bed, but Gendry hadn’t really behaved the way she’d expected him to, not in the slightest, and it made her uncomfortably uneasy that it wasn’t the case.

“So… The Stormlands, what are they like? My sister mentioned that they were a bit cold.” Arya asked slowly after a moment of silence, thinking that maybe by chancing the subject she would rid herself of the stone in her gut.

“Yes. Cold, wet and windy I suppose.”

Arya pouted in interest. “So the opposite of here, I see.”

“Is that a problem?” Gendry asked dryly as he peaked down at her from the corner of his eyes, and would’ve noticed the small smile creeping up onto the corner of her lips as she shook her head lightly.

“No on the contrary actually, I could only hope it would be, it’s too hot and clammy here.” Arya said, and noticed a question on his face and answers it before letting him ask it. “I'm quite fond of the cold you see, being from the north and all…”

“Forgive me, I’ve never been to the north before, so I can only hope it’ll fit your taste.”

Gendry spoke up with a surprising guilty look on his face yet again, as if it had been in his power to change the weather and he had failed himself. She didn’t know why but she hoped it wasn’t something that was going to stick, he looked foolish whenever he did it she thought.

“I didn’t expect you to have…” She said softly, chewing her cheeks as again he’d made her feel like the menace.

\--

They’d spoken no further than that, and when they’d reached a fountain Arya had stopped in her tracks and exhaled heavily through her nose in defeat. Gendry turned around to face her a few steps ahead of her, a puzzled look on his face.

“I should head back to my chambers and check up on my sister, so you don't have to follow me around anymore. You can go about with… Whatever work had kept you busy.”

Arya said looking around the area to figure out where in the castle she had ended up, obviously not recognizing it yet again. Gendry shot her a slightly concerned look, but he didn’t argue with her or even responded to her request, before he just bowed his head, and turned around to leave her behind. Relieved of how easy it’d been, Arya let her shoulder joints roll and her spine and neck relax for the first time that day, hating how uptight she had to act all the time.

After making sure her betrothed really had left her alone, she rushed off towards her chambers, slamming the door shut after entering with a echoing boom. She heard Sansa get out a yelp from her bed from the sudden intrusion, and then groan when she noticed the back of her sister’s head.

“Oh, Arya do you have to be so loud in the morning?” She whined and pulled the covers further up to her head and turning into a ball.

Arya ignored her sister and ate the urge to crudely point out that it was noon, and simply continued to groan as she let her hair fall free and loosened the ropes around her waist and exhaled deeply, forcing her stomach to round as she crawled onto her bed. Sansa noticed her grunting and sat up almost instantly, glancing over at her with curious eyes.

“What is it now?” She asked, and Arya ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes forcing herself to relax.

“Nothing.” She said, not wanting to satisfy her sister’s need for gossip right then and there.

“It’s not nothing, where have you been all day?”

“Forced to do pleasantries with the king and his son, are you happy now?” She mumbled into her pillows as she wiggled her feet deeper into the soft covers, foolishly hoping it would be the end of it.

“His son… You mean lord Baratheon?! So you’ve met him then yes? Oh Arya tell me, what's he like? Come on you have to share!”

Her sister nagged, throwing a pillow which landed on Arya's back and rolled off onto her side to gain her little sister’s attention. Arya knew she’d come to regret telling her sister, and wiggled her head deeper into her pillows, not wanting to talk about the embarrassment that was their meeting. Not to say she hadn’t actually gotten to know him at all, she just knew that he was awkward, quiet and not to her taste, all things she already knew that weren't in Sansa's interest.

“There is nothing to tell Sansa, he’s just a lord.” She said as she sat up after not being able to get comfortable, just in time to see Sansa roll her eyes.

“Oh please, what does he look like then?”

“Like his father” Arya said dryly brushing off the loose hair in her eyes.

“So he’s fat then?” Sansa asked with a disappointed and pitiful look on her face looking over at her little sister who scuffed under her breath.

“Not that alike.” Arya spoke sternly, not in the mood for her sister’s bad taste in jokes.

“Well then be more specific, otherwise I’ll just imagine you marrying the king, and I’ll be honest, it isn’t a pretty picture I’d want in my mind.” Her sister smirked slyly at her sister, whose face recoiled into a disgusted grimace.

“Why is it so important to you?” Arya asked. “You know why it’s important, it's you who wishes to keep your betrothed a secret… Is he perhaps _that_ handsome?” Sansa questioned quietly to herself which she knew would rub Arya the wrong way. 

“Sansa!” Arya yelled, and reached down to throw the previous pillow back at her sister, who was openly laughing at her little sister’s flustered reaction.

“Come on then spill it, or I’ll request to have him brought to our chambers so I can see for myself, otherwise it isn't fair.” She teased, and Arya wrinkled her nose before shrugging, “Well I don't know, he’s tall I guess, is that what you wish to hear?”

“Everyone is tall in comparison to you.” Sansa spoke dissatisfied, folding her arms over her chest.

“That doesn't mean I can’t tell when a person is excessively tall.” Arya argued, hating when her sister poked at her height, as if it was a valid reason to taunt her.

“Well what else, saying he is tall doesn’t exactly bring a picture into my mind.” Sansa asked, flaunting her arms over her head.

“His shoulders are broader than Jon’s, but is hair is the same color, maybe darker even, only very short...” Arya went on to explain, trying to find a way to describe the man she’d been forced into knowing, without needing to form an image of him in her head.

“Stop using Jon as a measurement, he isn't the one you are marrying.” She deadpanned.

“You are disgusting Sansa. You’re the one who asked for an image so I'm giving you one.” Arya spat, tired of trying to fulfil her sister’s fantasies, as it was like filling a broken bucket with water.

“By making Jon a clay ball? Are you really that bad at describing people? I wouldn’t want to hear your depicture of father then; he’s like me but a man.” Sansa mocked as she tried to mimic her little sisters voice, while wailing her arms around theatrically, and Arya threatened to throw another pillow at her sister in aggravation, blowing hot air out of her nose in an angered huff.

She’d settled as quickly as she’d risen on her knees, not having the energy to start ripping out her sisters hair, and later be blamed when she showed up to her wedding with a bald spot.

“Fine then, imagine this, opposite your little prince in every way possible, both physically and mentally.” Arya stated blatantly before pushing herself under her covers to finally ignore her sister completely, hearing her reply muffled by the feathers in the blanket.

“That is truly the best description you’ve made to date, now I'm even more curious to meet him at the upcoming gathering.” Sansa said, pushing herself off her bed and making her way over to her closet. Arya jolted in panic as she pulled off the covers off yet again and stared wide eyed at her sister as she chose a dress.

“Gathering? What gathering?” She questioned and Sansa chuckled lightly to herself from having gotten her sisters attention back so quickly,

” The betrothal gathering you idiot, you know the one where every possible lord or envoy comes and gives their regards to the engaged couple and all that. You don't remember going to Borrowton and congratulating Lady Dustin on her new engagement? We were there for two weeks.” Sansa said as she started to tie her corset, Arya thought about it for a moment, she did remember going to Borrowton, but not in the same context as she was describing.

“Thought that was her birthday, didn’t know anyone wanted to marry that old widow.”

“When you are a lady of a house, being a widow, or old, doesn’t really matter.” Sansa explained, and tightened her grip around the silk rope and pulled, Arya got a stomach ache just watching her.

“Suppose that's why we get sold off young, gets more marriages through that way.”

Sansa frowned at her little sister’s comment. “We got of pretty easy Arya, we are considered old for our first marriage you know, you eighteen I twenty. I guess that's the perks with being betrothed to a younger man from a young age… Well in my case at least, yours is older than me I hear, but I guess there are exceptions.”

Arya narrowed her eyes, she wasn’t sure it was supposed to come off as rude, but Arya still felt as if she should be offended by it. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” She asked, and Sansa waited with her reply until she’d finished pulling her dress up over her shoulders and could face her.

“Oh, I don't know, just that all my life I’ve only ever heard about my own betrothal, you were never in the picture before now. Of course, there is also the fact that you are fathers favorite, you would’ve never been married could he get away with it.”

“what are you saying?” Arya still didn’t understand how that had anything to do with her getting off anything easy, as far as she knew there was no getting out of a marriage, so the difficulty was irrelevant.

Sansa sighed heavily, “I'm saying that lord Baratheon is older than Joffrey, meaning he has obviously been of age for a longer time than he has. Most lords of age don’t wait around for their wives to be older than the age they first bleed, and that was a long time ago for you, so had you been betrothed for a long time you would’ve obviously have had to go through this a lot earlier. If father had this planned then the only explanation for the wait is that he cares about you more than he does about holding his promise to the King…” Sansa paused as she finished tying every string into a tight fitting and watched herself in the large mirror for a moment.

Arya had sat and listened to her sister’s ramblings, trying to find sense in what she was saying, but the thing was just that she had always been a bit slow in these regards, so her attentive listening didn’t help her much.

“And if it hadn’t been planned?” She asked, and carefully watched as her sister thought about it for a moment, having clearly not considered it as much as Arya expected her to have before shrugging.

“Who's to say, perhaps your soon-to-be husband is as stubborn as you are, and didn't want to marry before now.” It didn’t satisfy Arya, but there was no way she would be getting the answer she wanted by simply asking her father either, not to say Gendry, given he couldn’t even answer her properly just moments ago.

Arya laid back onto her back and spread out her arms above her head. Sansa telling her that she’d been lucky didn’t seem to have helped on her mood one bit, but she was also pretty sure that hadn’t been Sansa’s intentions either.

“Robb isn't married, he’s been of age longer than the king’s sons.” Arya spoke up, after a thoughts pause.

“He isn’t a lord yet, but I'm sure mother already has her eyes out lord or not, she went on a rant about potential northern ladies before we left, but that could also be for Bran given he’ll hopefully never be a lord but he is a bit over age… You know how easily mother forgets about the other two.” Sansa sat down by her vanity and started to pin up her hair, same way as she’d done yesterday. Arya doubted that was the case, they were sons, not daughters, they weren’t to as much use to sell off as her and Sansa had been… But then again, what did she know about anything anymore.

“Why do you know so much about this?” Arya asked as she stared up into the ceiling, trying to visualize Winterfell, her brothers and mother.

“You always did underestimate gossip, you learn to piece things together after a while.”

“I’ve never needed it.”

“And you’ve never needed a sword either, yet you insist on sparring with every guard in Winterfell, your point?” Arya smiled at her sister’s comment, not because it was funny, but it because it sparked the nostaltic feelings of joy she’d gotten from training by the front gate all thoese years.

“Training isn't boring.”

“That's subjective, but as mother always told me, even the most boring things can become useful in the long run.”

“The same thing goes for training.” Arya protested and raised her chin as Sansa finished standing up from her small vanity chair and brushed off her dress, a sly smile on her slips as she locked eyes with her sister.

“I never said it didn't.” She said before heading to the door.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked as she rolled onto her side, not sure she really wanted to be left alone despite their arguments, but Sansa merely smiled lightly at her little sister, her red hair framing her face nicely and her cheeks blooming due to the blush… she’d changed so much in matters of only minutes.

“I have a wedding to plan with the queen and a fiancé to get to know.”

“Shouldn’t I also be there?” Arya asked.

“You aren’t interested in these things anyways, besides, your marriage won't be in the sept, you wanted a northern marriage remember?” Arya did recall saying that, but she didn’t recall knowing that there was gods woods below the Neck either.

“you need to brush up on your history Arya, of course there is one, it might not be as great as the one at home, but it’ll do the job just fine.” Sansa had teased before heading out of the room, leaving Arya alone to complain about her life to herself.

\--

Arya saw nothing of her husband-to-be for the next few days, and she was satisfied with that. The few hours they had spent in silence had told her more than enough about the young lord, and frankly she didn’t wish to go through it again so soon. She had overlooked the front gate of the Red Keep the day all of the queen's orders came flooding through the form of hundreds of wagons.

There was food enough to feed an army, and more flowers than she believed to be necessary for a single wedding. There was silk and dresses of many, and that was only the things Arya could make out form where she was standing in their room, but she was sure that was only a faction of what came through.

She’d huffed thinking about how happy her sister must be, finally getting her perfect princess wedding fit for her dreams. She hadn’t talked about her prince as much as she’d thought she would have though, not that Arya was complaining, it simply seemed off for her not to have made Arya’s ears bleed by now. Sansa had however been obsessed with trying find Gendry ever since their talk, wherever they went she would point at people passing by, asking about similarities or differences to try and form a picture that would satisfy her, since they could never seem find the real thing.

Arya had stopped giving her what she wanted and started to ignore her sister’s ramble, having to constantly remind herself how he looked made her head hurt. She didn’t want to visualize him more than she needed to, which was hopefully less than what she felt it being so far.

It was the day before the gathering, and her neck and back had already begun to hurt form the amounts of times she had been forced into a bow as she greeted lords and envoys from around Westeros. They all had their own special little empty compliment for her when they arrived, some were more unique than others, most simply just stuck with the basic praise of her beauty.

After a while she’d become quite good at hiding the fact that she wanted to roll her eyes as she listened to their lies. She was however, a poor study and couldn’t quite distinguish the envoys from the lords, she relied on them greeting her sister first, where her remarks would point Arya in the directions of what she should do herself. It got simple after a while as well, if she bowed her head, it was a lord, she if it was merely a smile and she was the one to reach out her hand it was an envoy.

After a while Arya had pretty much become her sister’s reflection, mirroring every move and facial expression she did, said the same things and laughed at the same time. There wasn’t much left of Arya’s sanity when the her sister finally leaned down to her ear and allowed her to take a break.

 she didn’t think twice of it when she turned her on her heel, having just locked eyes with yet another envoy and left the room, her feet dragging her towards her bed uncontrollably. Sadly, she didn't get very close to it, before her father called out to her from behind. She still had yet to have talked properly to him again since then.

She may have greeted him once or twice at the dinner table, but had yet to utter another word to him. While she wasn’t as angry with him as much as before, her hatred and frustration still fueled her whenever she saw him and she wanted him to notice, and know that she wasn’t going to forgive him just like that, as she’d done her whole life.

Ned had let her be angry with him, not that he had a choice in the matter, but he didn’t try to push a conversation on her before now. Arya had squeezed her eyes shut for a split second before looking over her shoulder, her cold stare digging into his gentle ones. Even if she would’ve much rather just continue to walk away, and have obviously ignored him, she knew that her father had his limits as well and that she was pushing them.

She could only walk away from him that many times before he snapped.

Arya turned to face him as he walked up to her, his tall and dark figure towering over her like a dark shadow. She noticed he didn’t look annoyed with her, in fact one would’ve never guessed they’d been in a conflict for over a month had they only seen him then. He asked to see her in his chambers, and lead her away, past her down chambers and up just one flight of stairs down the hall.

Ned held the door open for her when they reached the large wooden door, and Arya walked in with a hesitant posture, she wasn’t so sure she was going to enjoy being in a private room with her father anymore, it ever lead to anything good she decided… yet here she was, unable to turn away so suddenly.

Ned gestured her to sit in a large chair by the window leading out into a small patio, it was different from the usual seat at the fireplace, but such a thing wasn’t needed in the south. He sat down next to her, only a small tea table separating the two, and poured up a cup of warm wine which had been in the sun since morning Arya figured.

Arya took the cup, but refused to drink it, not needing her stomach to feel more upset than it already did, and Ned leaned back in his chair blowing a short breath through his nose before speaking up.

“So, how you do fancy King’s landing?”

Arya shot a sharp stare his way, he knew damn well she hated it. “It’s a warm shit hole, and I loathe every second I have to stay here.” She said through her teeth, pulling her eyes away from her father as a smirk crawled up on his face, she hadn’t said it to amuse him, and the mere fact that it did made her wish she’d simply lied and told her she loved it.

“It’s been known given we are in the south, most areas down here and further are too hot for us northerners.”

“I was told the Storm Lands were cold.” She muttered back, watching the wine as she twirled it around in her cup.

“So you know about it?” Ned asked slightly curious.

“What the king's son told me.” She replied, glancing up at her father who, with a satisfied smile, took a sip of the wine in his cup. “So you’ve talked with him, I'm glad.”

Arya huffed, she wouldn’t call it talking, more like pleasantries and a stroll under hot weather to make her sweat for no reason. “Good to know one of us are…”

“Arya…” Her father attempted to console her, but he just didn’t find the right words to do so, that, or he just simply didn’t feel like taking her up on another argument. Arya didn’t care which one it was regardless.

Ned paused in a light sigh as before and continued his efforts to console her. “I wouldn’t have done this, was it not the right thing to do… you know this Arya.”

Her father spoke slowly, trying his best not to anger her with his tone, but no matter how lightly he tread around her she would still bite at him.

“Do I? Because so far, I don't entirely see how this marriage fixes anything, in fact I don't even see what needs fixing.” She snapped at him, raising her voice just a bit, her knuckles turning white around the cup in her hands.

Ned shook his head lightly, “It isn’t about fixing things Arya, it's…-”

He didn’t finish his sentence and sounded defeated, as if he finally realized that no matter what he said it would only reach deaf ears. He put his cup down on the table as he held his breath, speaking only once he’d leaned back up.

“Your mother told me you wished for a marriage under the old gods… You shall have it. I have spoken with the king, and he has agreed to overlook the wedding the night before your sisters, there shall be no celebration, and only the ones necessary shall attend to it… as you want it.”

Something about the way he said it so simply made Arya want to start crying, it was as if he was fulfilling her lifelong dream she’d been begging to have…as if she was Sansa.

“Good.” She muttered, running her fingers along the edge of the cup, she supposed it was a comfort that the king had allowed it, given that he was a man who was found of his feast and parties, but perhaps he was also a scrooge and was content with the feast to come with Sansa’s wedding. One way or the other she didn’t mind.

“When will you be going back to Winterfell?” She asked suddenly, and her father paused in his movements for before clearing his drying throat, “I won't be going back for a while I'm afraid, the king requested my staying until his hand, lord Arryn, comes back from your cousins celebration.”

Arya got quiet again, she did recall Rickon being sent off because of a celebration for their cousin, she prayed in her mind that he was alright. Rickon was still young, and not the most experienced Stark, she was scared she might have influenced him a bit too much given that he as well was horrible at being noble and poorly mannerd. Only when their mother was around was he truly acting polite and of his proper age.

“You’ll be hearing from Rickon then.” She said dryly.

“I hope so, although I'm sure he will have no troubles getting by, he’s a clever boy.” her father said with pride stuck in his eyes.

“And what of the north?”

“Have some faith in your brother, I wouldn’t have left the north did I not know he was fully capable to handle it, not to say your mother is around to guide him.”

“You mean take over.” Arya said almost teasingly, and it did bring about a chuckle in her fathers throat.

“He will have his work cut out for him yes.” Arya finally takes a sip of the wine, it was as displeasing as she’d imagined, but not unbearable, yet she needed it to wetten the back of her throat.

“Then I will be the only one leaving, of course who knows when that'll be.” she sighed her breath already smelling of wine and she suddenly wanted to cleanse her mouth with sea water.

“That’ll be up to lord Baratheon, although I can't imagine you’ll be staying long, he has his work cut out for him, being the only Baratheon at Storm’s End.” Ned started with a pitiful smile as he thought about the young man, “Won't be for much longer.” Arya mumbled to herself, in thought of her having to change her name, but her father frowned deeply and grumbled at her.

“You will always be a Stark, no matter what name you marry into… remember your mothers words Arya, they weren’t empty promises.” She felt a pit drop in her stomach and the alcohol stir up a nasty feeling in her gut, it seemed as if her father had simply disregarded what he was forcing upon her, forgetting that it was his fault she was changing her name to begin with.

“Then why does it feel like it’s being ripped away from me?” She spoke, standing up from her seat and placing down her cup, she no longer felt like breathing the same air as him.

Ned looked up at her with a regretful gaze, and an apology lingered on his lips as he was hesitant to reach out and touch her wrist. “Arya please-”

“Excuse me, my lord, but I don't believe it's proper to discuss a lady’s marriage preparations with her father, so if you have nothing else to say, I’d like to go back and help my sister… I believe my break is long wasted.” She left the room without further notice, had Ned wanted to tell her anything he would’ve done it already, but Arya left with the assumption that he’d simply wanted to rub salt into bleeding wounds, and she wasn’t going to stand it.

Despite what she’d said she didn’t go back to Sansa, her nerves were too tense and her mood had long turned sour, and she wasn’t going to be able to hide it well enough to continue. Her tantrum had led her down a path towards the open grounds, and back out towards the stables. Her dress got instantly covered in dirt and her blue shoes turned brown as she stepped into the mud puddles with firm steps, not flinching as mud sprayed onto her legs. It was bloody hot and her tight dress didn’t help at all, had it not been because she was surrounded by men, she would’ve ripped it to shreds already.

Her hands turned into fists as she grabbed whatever sword she could find, and dragged it behind her with a limp arm. She noticed how the sweating men stopped in their tracks and watched her closely as she made her way past them, looking at her as if she was a pink sheep in pants, bewildered and confused by her appearance.

She ignored them all however, and simply turned at the next corner until she’d found a private area by the cliff side, an open patio looking over the sea. She could smell the fish the wind carried from the harbor and the salt already made her hair turn thick and grimy, not that she cared a whole lot about what she looked like in that moment still the smell wasn’t pleasant.

She’d swung the all too heavy and large sword into the closest bolder sticking out of the cliff side, and she stumbled back as the force was too much for her arms and the sword flung back at her, her dress getting in her way of her footing and caused her to trip over herself as well.

Having had enough of all the obstacles, she ran the sword down the side of the dress and listened as it ripped the fabric, she kicked it open and tore apart whatever the sword couldn’t finish at the hem.

It was a satisfying sound, and she enjoyed the fact that she could finally see her legs again. She ripped the necklace off her neck and tossed it off the patio before she hammed the sword back into the stone, watching as the sword created white scratch marks into the cliffside. She slammed the sword and screamed until her breathing was heavy and her arms tired from lifting its weight and her chest was heaving like a horse.

She wouldn’t stop however, whenever she thought about the upcoming days, she got furious again. She would recall her father and scream, her sisters constant nagging and feel a burning in her throat. She thought of her brother and of Jon having left her behind without a goodbye with a painful chest.

She thought about her future and how much she hated everything she had to go through, she hated the king, she hated the brat of a prince, she hated the queen, she hated every envoy she’d spoken too, every lord and lady and their bloody lies about her appearance and her fake smiles. She wanted to throw up at the thought of every word spoken to her that day, and she felt just sick when thinking about the ceremony.

Each hit with the sword rung in her ears, the sharp sounds pricing them and she felt as if she was going deaf due to the echoes around her, not noticing the sounds of footsteps before they were only a few feet away from her. She shot her head up, her nostrils flaring and her loose hairs from her now messy bun sticking to her face covered in sweat, her cheeks were red and her arms trembled when they finally caught a break.

She stared cold bloodedly up into the, yet again, dirty face of Gendry Baratheon, only this time his attire fit with the rest of him, filthy and loosely fitting. He stared at her with a surprised gaze and a frightful brow when he’d noticed the sword in her hands.

He straightened his back and cleared his throat quickly as he could before the expression became permanent on his face, while he tried to form a coherent sentence. It was then Arya remembered how much of a pain he was, his face had been the center of her annoyance ever since she arrived, mostly due to her sister, but everywhere she went everybody had to mention him. Yet she knew nothing about him other than he the fact that he was a dirty lord who didn’t seem to fully understand what title that even meant.

She hadn’t spoken to him properly yet, it was because of him that she had to suffer, had he not been Roberts son then she would’ve never been engaged to him and she would’ve gotten to continue to live her life in the north.

He looked at her with pity, as he if he was well aware of the things their engagement had cost her, and she wanted to punch him in the face whenever he did it, she didn’t want his pity, frankly she wanted nothing from him.

He looked her up and down with a steady eye, his lips slipping into a thin line when he looked down at the sword again, seemingly displeased the way way his brows slanted into a sad glance.

“Excuse me…M’lady, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, some of the workers told me they’d seen my sword get dragged away when I heard the um…”

He dragged out his words as he rubbed a black hand up his sweaty neck, blue eyes shifting from hers and down again to the, now very damaged, sword. He looked like he wanted to curse at her for a split second, and for once she’d wished he would just do it already, just to have someone be angry with her so her anger could be blamed on something excusable, but she could tell he would never actually do that, based on the way he twisted his lips.

She looked down at the long sword as the now broken off tip scratched the ground, there was deep hacks down the side of it and the leather around the handle was starting to unwrap.

Out of the corner of her eye she took a look at the cliff side which she had managed to break a piece off from, white dust laying around her feet as a result. Gendry had noticed the damage she’d done to her surroundings as well, and blinked a couple of times as he stood and considered how he should approach the situation.

While she stood there her nerves calmed down quickly and she realized just how much of her energy she’d used up, her arms throbbing, hands a bit shaky, her throat dry and her head had started to hurt as well. She dropped her shoulders and blinked down at the sword once again, finally figuring out what he’d been hinting at.

“Sorry.” She mumbled as she kept her head down, all of a sudden getting embarrassed by her actions.

Gendry turned his attention back to her and shook his head quickly.

“No it’s… it's alright m’lady, it's- It’s just a sword.” he sighed slightly and Arya cursed at him once more in her head for having forgiven her just like that despite being obviously upset.

“You’re dirty again today.” She said calmly her fingers picking at the loose leather and she glanced up at him through her free locks of hair. Gendry blinked as he looked down at himself and then at her.

“Seems I'm not the only one.” He stated as he wrinkled his brows at her as he looked over her small figure once more. She did the same thing to herself and was finally aware of how awful she must have looked and suddenly felt even more miserable, looking less like a lady than and more like a hermit in her own opinion.

It wasn't a flattering view she was sure, and she could already hear her mother screams all the way from Winterfell, telling her what a disgrace she was for looking like this in front of her husband-to-be. Had she not been so exhausted she might have cared more as well, but it wasn’t like he’d put in the same efforts to look presentable towards her, although she was sure she was the worst of the two.

“Promise me you won't tell anyone about this my lord, and forget you saw me.” She mumbled, running her loose hairs behind her ears and holding a long blink as she pictured the looks she would be getting when she would be going back into the castle alone.

“I won't, but If you don't mind me asking, are you alright?” Gendry said a bit concerned as he once more looked to the cliff side.

Arya almost broke out laughing, she obviously didn't look it, so she found his question, while comforting, just incredibly idiotic. “What would it matter if I am or not, you can’t help me…” She said and Gendry looked guilty again but didn’t say anything before Arya started to move towards him, the broken sword scraping a white line in the ground behind her.

“Let me take you back to your chambers, people will ask questions if you come back like that alone.”

He said and brough hand out, wrapping it around the blade and laying it over his right shoulder before looking to see if she needed support, which she didn't. Arya on the other hand questioned why he suddenly felt the need to act like a gentleman, unsure behind his reasoning, people would obviously ask questions regardless of how she arrived, so wouldn’t he also be in the line of fire if he came with her looking like that?

“Why are doing this?” She asked when they’d reached the top of the staircase as they headed back to the castle, lingering only a step behind him. He shot a look over his shoulder and brought the sword down from his shoulder and into hand, shifting his hold unto the hilt.

“You aren’t the only one needing to hold up a reputation M’lady, if the king saw you like this alone I wouldn’t hear the end of it, not to say you asked me to keep your secret, I’ll need to know what excuse you are planning to tell people to do so... consistency and all.”

“You look awful as well though.” Arya pointed out, but Gendry merely shrugged. “So, if we both look this way people are more inclined to believe whatever you tell them, besides it won't be me that matters.”

“Why not?” She questioned with a risen brow, “Cus’ a lady isn't supposed to look like she just fought a bear.” Gendry answered dryly, his tone having somehow changed rather suddenly from the last time they met.

“Neither is a lord.” She countered

“Right, but I believe I have a few more acceptable excuses.” His comment made her frown deeply.

“Such as?”

Gendry didn’t say anything in return, just flicked his wrist lightly and wiggled the sword in his large hand. Arya bit her down on her on cheek, she was happy he didn't state the obvious, for she had grown up on hearing those words; A lady don't train with swords, and was she ten times more sure that it was even more frowned upon down south than back home where it was primarily just her mother that would make a fuss about it.

As they walked Arya became more aware of the workers stares, eyeing her up and down, some clearly confused and would whisper to their coworkers as they followed her movements, but other men were more obvious with their intense stares at her…They looked at her with hungry eyes as if she was a deer to be hunted down, and as a wind stroked her legs she suddenly realized why and glanced down at her pale white leg as it peaked out from the side of her cut dress.

Her hands were quick to fold the fabrics over one another and once more hide her skin from the nasty stares that came her way. For the first time in her life she wished she was shorter, wanting to disappear from the words view, but at the same time she wished she could scoop out each one of their eyes with a wooden spoon and feed them to the pigs.

Gendry seemed to notice her frigidness behind him and glared down at her twitching hands as they folded her dress, making the fit tighter. He then took a quick glance around them before speaking up again to grab her attention.

“So, what will it be then?” Arya blinked up at him in the middle of her irritation, Gendry didn’t seem to mind her however, and simply remained patient.

”What’ll be what?”

“What will be your excuse for when we run into someone?”

“I haven’t got any.” She mumbled behind gritted teeth after a pause, hating how unprepared she sounded, although to her own defense, so far nothing she’d done throughout the day had been planned, to the meeting, to her father, to her breaking a sword… it was all after impulsive and unannounced happenings.

Gendry gave her an unexpected askance look down at her, before inhaling softly as he looked around the corner as they exited the workers area and was about to pass into the actual castle itself once more.

Arya noticed the look he had given her and narrowed her eyes at him, “what?”

“Nothing M’lady, you just didn’t strike me as the sort of person that wouldn’t be good at planning ahead.”

“Do I look like one that does?”

“Not at the moment no… ah, sorry I didn’t-” Gendry bit down into his tongue stopping himself from speaking further, as Arya’s face turned wide eyed and her mouth parted slightly, speechless from his sudden bluntness.

She couldn’t help but feel a bubble of a laugh pop out onto her mouth as her lips had curled up for the first time that day, she was just glad he hadn’t noticed it, she would have had to blind him if he found out that she kind of enjoyed his straightforwardness.

“I’ll have you know I'm great at planning ahead, but I'm even better at improvising actually.”

“You mean lying?” He asked, a bit hesitant as he pushed open a door with his free hand and watched out for anyone who could possibly have a reason to go and question them.

“Not necessarily no, but most of the time sure, why? not your specialty?” She failed it notice how blindly she’d followed him, not even looking around herself as they walked through the halls.

“Far from it M’lady, I tend to keep myself away from those situations.”

Arya squeezed her lips into a thin line as she looked at the back of his head in disappointment, it was rather large she’d decided, but it was in a good proportion considering how wide his shoulders were. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was tired or simply walked too close, but he looked different from the day before when the king had officially introduced them. Despite him still not looking her in the eye, and still having a nervous aura around him as they walked inside the walls of the Red Keep, was he still somehow not really the same person as the man she’d seen in the clean gown. She still couldn’t really put her finger as to why that was though.

“I see…” She mumbled under her breath as she couldn’t really find a way to follow up on it.

“However, now would be a good way to test it.” He spoke up after opening up a door that lead out into one of the halls which were had an open view over the grand gardens. Below them were Sansa, the Queen, prince Joffrey and dozens of servants walking about as they prepared for the feast which was to take place in only two days time. Arya flinched as she spotted them, pulling herself closer to the wall and crouched down, and having forgotten her way to her own chambers she sneered up at Gendry who stood idly and watched her silently a few steps away.

“Why have we gone this way?” She snapped, and as if not really knowing what to say Gendry pulled a slight grimace as he watched her peak out her head over the small wall which worked as her only form of cover.

“Because it’s the only way there from the grounds.”

Without arguing it further she hid a groan in the back of her throat and slowly stood up, covering the side of her face as she hurried her way over to the end of the balcony and into the fully covered hall once more. She exhaled deeply as she prayed her sister had been too distracted to notice her and that the Queen had seen so little of her she couldn’t recognize her.

She looked back at Gendry as he stood behind looking down at the people below them with a blank stare on his face, not being the least bit worried about them, or at least not in the same manner as she had been. Arya rolled her eyes as she pulled herself off the wall and looked down the hall, she had started to recognize where they were, and recalled her chambers being just a few corridors down. It was then a door pushed itself open causing her heart nearly jump out of her throat before looking down at the only man shorter than herself who was looking up at her with the most off-putting expression as he eyed her up and down in confusion.

He had a dark blond curly thick beard and same volume hair, as well as odd colored eyes that grew large and instantly judgmental. She had never seen him before yet she instantly felt as if she should. His clothing made of fine dark leather with a red undertone and a cape pinned over his shoulder.

“Seven Hells.” He cursed under his breath as he looked at her, his voice filled with a sense of disbelief and discomfort.

She somewhat wanted to kick him after his comment, not needing her appearance to be pointed out to her anymore what it already had been.

“Are you lost?” the dwarf asked, and Arya cleared her throat trying to save whatever little pride she could.

“Erm no I-” She attempted to do what she had said she was supposedly good at when Gendry called out and interrupted her. “Lord Tyrion.”

The little man glanced out of the corner of his eyes and watched in surprise when he spotted the tall man greeted him with a light wave of his hand.

“Lord Baratheon, what an odd surprise to see you here, haven’t got enough work at the grounds?” He said and eyed Arya once more.

“Got plenty my lord, but my help was requested elsewhere… ah, you’ve met Lady Stark right?”

Gendry spoke his posture and facial expression changing back once to the man she’d walked with in the gardens as he spoke to Tyrion, who got wide eyed at the mention of her name.

“I'm afraid not, I was late in my arrival here and only got to meet her sister lady Sansa, you must forgive me my lady I didn’t think-” Arya gritted her teeth and interrupted, not in the mood for whatever else would be coming out of his mouth after that.

“It’s quite alright my lord, it's a pleasure to meet you too, truely, and I wished it had been in better circumstances than this.” She excused him and watched him as he nodded slowly at her, “Yes indeed, but whatever has happened to you my lady?”

There it was, the cursed question she had anticipated, she knew she’d told Gendry that she would figure something out when it happened, but in that moment her mind drew a blank, her brain too flustered to think of something other than running away.

“An accident really, she went to visit me on the grounds to give me a message from my father, when the hooves of a horse caught hold of her dress and ripped it.”

Gendry said casually, saving her with his quick response, as if knowing there was not time to stop and think of one right then and there. Tyrion seemed conflicted for a quiet moment but nodded nonetheless, and Arya was quick to look away in embarrassment, not finding his so-called excuse rather flattering for her.

For one it made her look like a clingy fool, and for another clumsy and naive.

“And that?” Tyron pointed to the broken sword in Gendry’s hand which he shifted in his hand loosely.

“ah, this? Works tend to follow me wherever I go I guess.”

“Didn’t the king tell you to stop ‘that kind of work?” Tyrion folded his arms over his chest, with a knowing look in his eyes, and strangely Gendry didn’t back down from his gaze like she’d expected him to and watched him just clear his throat and straighten his back.

“Yes well, I'm sure I'm not the only one going against my father's wishes and goes places I'm not supposed to.” He stated with a assured look on his face as he looked over Tyrion's head and into the unfamiliar bed chamber, noticing the pulled curtains and the fresh smell of arousal the breeze carried out from behind the man.

A sly and impressed smile creeped up on Tyrion's face as he let out a light chuckle and walked out into the hall before shutting the door behind him and looking back up at the towering man. “I’m sure you’re not, luckily I'm always right where I needed… My lord, My lady.” Tyrion gently nodded his head towards the two of them, before placing a hand on Gendry’s forearm and leaving in the direction they’d come from.

Arya stood and watched in silence as the short man walked away as if he’d noticed nothing and had little to no care in the world. She looked at the door again before her nose wrinkled a bit, “Will he keep quiet?” she asked unsure how she should judge him.

Gendry blinked down at her. “Lord Tyrion? Of course he will.”

“And how do you know that?”

“He has no reason not to.” Gendry pointed out dryly.

“And why not?” She asked doubtfully.

“Lord Tyrion doesn’t say things unless it benefits him in some way. Besides, he’s a good person, better than most around here, he doesn’t go around and ruins people's reputation.” He stated rather simply before pushing past her and continuing their way down the hall, “And why not, how can you be so sure?” Arya asked, still worried the word slipping out.

“Because he doesn’t have the strongest reputation himself.” The tall man smiled to himself.

She was about to speak up again when Gendry stopped up and gestured her down a familiar hallway, her chambers just a few doors down. “Forgive, M’lady, but this is as far as I will take you, your room should be down that way.” Still flustered Arya seemed to have forgotten her manners as she snapped back into reality blinking up at Gendry before clearing her throat and rolling her shoulders.

“Right, I um- sorry I didn’t mean for this to happen, I must have troubled you.” She tried to find the right words as her hand roamed over her dress, really wishing for the day to end.

“Not at all M’lady, I'm merely at your service like promised, it’s me that should be apologizing for intruding on you. It wasn’t very… proper of me I guess.” He finished off and turned on his heel and leaving her behind, and stunned in confusion she rummaged after something to say that would sum up whatever it was that she felt, but he was out of reach when she finally found her voice again.

She felt odd, and she could only blame him for having stirred in her pot of emotions, she didn’t know how to think or to feel about this man anymore. Could she still be angry at her father or had it been shifted onto something else now? Neither could she figure out if she was really embarrassed anymore as she stood alone. She was confused and annoyed at the way he’d addressed her but at the same time taken aback on how much he changed from one thing into another at the presence of lord Tyrion.

It irritated her that she couldn’t decide on how to act around him anymore, he had promised her that he would forget about the incident, but did that mean they would have to go back to how it was earlier? She wasn’t even sure on which one she preferred either way. In midst of her shipment of thoughts she walked back into her chambers, shutting the door and locking it, not wanting to be seen in her current state, not even by her sister and refused to take her chances with servants.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next part of the story, I had it ready in case it was needed, I hope you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> Once again, leave a comment if there is something wrong with it but I haven't had anyone yell at me yet telling me I'm shit so far, then again the first part hasn't been up for that long. Thank You!
> 
> (edit: updated 19-12-19)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, Weeping and Wedding

Snow fell from the grey sky, each twirling around the air in a different manner than the one next to them as they searched for a place to land, and where they then would finally blend together with a mass of a thousand other snowflakes in a white dune.

They would no longer be indistinguishable to the common eye, and be forgotten by the world as well, their mere existence will become irrelevant in the mass of many. Where one would disappear, another would take its place.

It didn’t matter how large the snowflake was, didn't matter how much space it could over on it's own in the pile, nor how much attention it got from its unique shape and crystals. Soon it would melt or be forgotten as soon as a snowflake just as big and important would fall and land elsewhere. All snowflakes were the same in their basis form, simply just frozen water. They didn’t taste different on one’s tongue, and didn’t feel different like stones could. It was water... just water. Some of the unlucky ones might have ended up being pissed on and lost their pure white color, but they had all been of water at one point or another.

Jon had at one point of time told Arya about the time he’d been stuck in a pile of snow so deep that it had taken three men to pull him out of it. By the time he’d gotten out he could barely feel his toes and when they were finally warm again, his feet had been burned from staying so close to the fire for so long. Arya had laughed each time he told it to her as a child, mostly due to his way of expressing himself when he’d told it, his arms flying in the air, and his face turning into funny grimaces.

Arya didn’t think the day would come she’d finally feel what it was like to be swallowed up in a pile of snow, unable to escape it and freeze shut in place. It wasn’t the same as when Jon had explained it to her, it lacked the humor and the warm feeling she would get in her gut from hearing about it. No, it was much more painful and suffocating than she’d been told, a bundle of snowflakes crowding around her and pressuring her, even if they themselves were one of the lightest things in the world.

 Her lungs cried as they struggled to inhale the proper amount of air, her whole body smashed further and further into the snow, the wind around her making it impossible to see anything but the darkness in front of her. She was pulling and clawing her way out of the snow in desperation as it continued to grow larger and thicker around her small body and pulling her further down.

She felt something wet wrap around her leg and suddenly she gasped for her air as she was forced deep down the snow and submerged into a wet abyss, sending hard waves through her body and making her spin out of control as she tried to continue her way back up. She felt her lungs crying for air, but scared to inhale in fear of drowning, she forced her mouth shut and continued to struggle her way up what seemed to be a never-ending darkness.

Like a lightning bolt she shot up her head from the break of the water and her lungs gasped heavy breaths of warm air into them. Her eyes opened and she found herself sat still in a tub as water dripped from down from her hair and chin into the bath she’d been seated in.

She stared blankly down at her body as she caught her breath, trying to calm herself down as wild lines dragged themselves over her vision, making her dizzy and disorganized. She found herself shaking in her seat as her hands were wrapped tightly around each side of the bronze tub, afraid that letting go would mean she would be sent back into the black void beneath.

Her throat was burning from having gulped down the grimy and soapy waters as well as her eyes burning from the hot tears that melted together with the drops of water running down from her hair. She was awake, she knew she was, but something in the back of her mind refuted the fact, telling her that the horror was far from over. She choked on a sob as her legs trembled, curled up to her stomach, her knees sticking just over the surface of the bath, a dark ring of soap crowding around it.

She felt her foot throbbing from the pain of having kicked into the side of the tub in her state of panic, and a dump on her head was starting to form under her almost black colored hair. She glanced up in the mirror in front of her and looked onto her sorry state; eyes red and face pale despite the dim orange lighting of the evening sun as it made its way through the windows in the back end of her and Sansa’s chambers.

It was still relatively warm outside, but her body was covered in cold sweat causing her to shiver in her own grime. The dust flew around her head like snowflakes in the orange light and would twirl whenever she exhaled.

It seemed like forever had passed until she built the courage to move again, her body having apparently woken up from the nightmare and recognized her conscious state. Arya pushed herself out of the bath, listening as water ran down her body and splashed onto the stone floor beneath her as her feet slapped onto them like raw fish. She wobbled her way into a stable stance, taking a moment to gain full control of her body not realizing how tired she had been.

 She gathered the strength to bend down and pour one last bucket over her head, not caring if the water got everywhere. She then sat down and began to dry herself off, noticing a bruise running down her right leg, and some small cuts from when she’d cut her dress open.

Arya sighed as she continued to dry off, biting down the pain her rough and quick movements caused that didn’t seem to settle well with her sore body. She looked over herself in the mirror after she’d finished, trying spot any more potentials damage she could’ve done, but luckily it had been the only one, even if it had been rather long and obvious against the paleness of her leg.

She was glad her mother hadn’t been around; she would’ve gotten the scolding a lifetime had she known she’d caused injury to her body so close to her wedding day. The goods had been damaged now, and she wondered how much it lessened her worth that it would scar, there was a reason why her mother had handled her with such purity before she’d left after all.

She was like a vase, her family had been the seller, and she’d been reserved to a buyer and now it had been broken mid transportation. The buyer wouldn’t be getting his money's worth anymore and file a complaint to her family. Although now that she looked at herself, the buyer wouldn’t be getting what he’d ordered anyway.

Her body was already covered in small scars on her arms and legs from previous injuries she’d gotten from playing just a tad bit too rough throughout the years. Although that’s what they get for buying an item blindly, but she supposed that the rarity of an item overweight’s the quality of it.

A coin was still a coin even if it was scratched up and covered in dents.

Arya sighed to herself as she turned around and headed over to her dresser, pulling out her undergarment and pulling it over her head. She ran her hands through her hair a few times, squeezing out the remaining of the water before crawling onto her bed, still tired and exhausted from before.

However she couldn’t find rest, her heart was still too far up her throat and she was all too aware of each time it pounded in her ears, not to say she had to stay conscious of her breathing, afraid it might slip away once more if she wavered even for a second. However, she craved sleep, she needed it so badly despite being afraid of what was behind her lids.

She laid still, her cheek deep into the covers as she looked out over the large room, her legs curling up to her stomach as she rolled onto her side.

She attempted to visualize her room from back home, to imagine the fireplace from the bottom of her bed with its warm fire heating her up. She tried to transform the covers from their silky form into furs that would tickle her nose when she’d move her head, and warm her feet with their soft hairs that would consume her body like tall grass.

She tried to see the darkness in her room, the darkness that would lull her to sleep as the wavering light from the flames moved it across the icy stone floors and reflect in her pupils. A wiggle from her nose and she could practically smell the burning food and the dust from her covers, and hear the wind as it howl against her windows as they were framed with ice and snow making it hard to see out off on the coldest of nights.

Arya craved to listen to the splintering of the wood as it would break when the fire ate at it, as well as the quiet footsteps from the servants just down the hall as they shuffled around, preparing the castle for the new day to come as soon as the sun would break over the walls of Winterfell. She listened after the whining of horses and the mumbles of the guards that watched the gate that night hearing nothing but their increment mumbles through the thick walls and thin glass.

She focused on everything she could to transport herself back into that small room, and soon her body had been brought back into a long and deep slumber, as she remained in that room as it embraced her with its sturdy and warm walls and the familiarity of home. It was almost too good to be true, and she wasn’t sure how long it lasted before a hammering on her door broke her moment of bliss, waking her up once more.

She jolted her body up and she snapped back into her true reality and recalled everything that had happened all at once from the nightmare, to the sounds of Winterfell in an instant. She rubbed her eyes and let out a heavy yawn, the knocking on her door appearing once more, and it got increasingly heavier as she pushed herself off the tall bed and she shuffled over to the door and left the person behind it wait.

She recognized her sisters voice from the other side, and she sounded worried as she continued to hammer her fists on the door. Arya stepped up the staircase and unlocked the lock and pulled open the door with a scowl on her face. She looked into her sisters large and worrying eyes as she finally stopped her knocking and watched her mouth open in ajar.

Her hair was still in the neat crown-like braid behind her head, and it was still as soft looking as it was been when she left the room, as if she’d just finished brushing it for the hundredth time that day. Arya also noticed that her cheeks had been reddened just a tiny bit from the sun’s kisses, flaring up her freckles once more making her look younger, maybe even younger than Arya herself.

Sansa dropped her arm down to her side as she looked her sister up and down, her eyes filled with concern and fright as she looked back into her sisters sleep deprived and irritated eyes.

“Arya there you are, why have you locked the door, you had me worried sick!” She broke their silence as she pushed her way inside the room scanning their chambers with a thorough gaze.

“I was sleeping and didn’t want to be disturbed.”  Arya said as she snapped her head back at her sister as she shut the door once again, rather dismissive of her older sisters feelings.

” Arya, you can’t just lock the door as you see it fit here, you’ll worry others!”

Arya wrinkled her brows, “And why not?”

“Because you’re a lady to be wedded and you’ve been acting up lately.” Sansa stated with her concerned undertone but managed to calm herself after a few breaths. Arya opened her mouth in pure disbelief as she stared back at her sister with a offended glare, a silence between them before she erupted.

“You thought I would kill myself?!” Arya nearly yelled as she caught on her sister’s intentions, who immediately avoided her eyes.

“Sansa!” She called out to her as her sister held her silence and visually gulped down some dry spit.

“Well what else was I supposed to think Arya, you’ve gone on and on about how much you hate this marriage. You continue to disappear without telling me, you never came back to the hall and father told me about your conversation this afternoon!” Sansa snapped back almost just as loudly.

Arya looked at her sister in pure rage and disbelief as she talked, thinking her ears was deceiving her as she listened to Sansa’s ramblings. She knew her sister was dramatic but she was starting to exceed all the expectations she ever had for her, how low did she think her younger sister was exactly?

“You’re unbelievable.” Arya muttered under her breath as she headed over to her bed once again, Sansa watching her every step with a frown screwed onto her pretty face.

 “I'm unbelievable? I'm not the one going around being ungrateful for the things father has worked hard for, the things our _house_ has worked hard for to give you and I.”

Arya stiffened in her tracks, her anger starting make her blood boil once more as she dug her nails into her palms, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm herself down… But she simply couldn't and didn’t hide the fact as she grinded her teeth and turned her attention back to her sister, eyes burning holes into her slim figure, Into the angelic being she so deemed herself to be, the fucking savior of their house apparently.

“Ungrateful? _Ungrateful!?_ Well I'm fucking sorry little miss perfect-obedience, that I'm not exactly jumping out of my skin and kissing fathers’ feet as he sells me off to a family I want nothing to do with! I’m sorry that I don't let him use me as some sort of tool just so he can _suck up_ to the king _that_ bit more and get a couple of coins into his pocket! I’m sorry that I feel _that_ bit entitled to my own freedom and don't wish to be send off to live in isolation in a stranger's home and be forced to screw a man I don't know, _just_ because _he_ said so! I'm very fucking sorry Sansa that I'm _not you_ and don't wish to be handled by some blond _twat_ who has his hand so far up his own ass that one wouldn’t think he was capable of fucking anyone other than himself!”

Arya could feel herself running out of air as she unleashed her pent-up frustration onto her sister, her hands shaking as they crinkled her thin garment in their fists, and her face was running hot and most likely red as well.

She didn’t care what it looked like, her only wish was for a sister to shut her mouth and leave her alone for once in her life. To stop pretending she could choose what Arya could and could not feel. She felt no remorse for her as her face dropped a tiny bit before deepening her frown as much as Arya had done. She didn’t care if everyone had heard her or just how unladylike she was acting, that she cursed or that she was causing a fuss by raising her voice. Nothing around her mattered.

The only thing she could focus on was her anger, and the words she finally got unleash onto her sister’s stone face. Arya knew Sansa would scream at her for offending their father as well as her little prince, but at this point that didn’t matter either. If people came and killed her off then and there, so be it, it’d be a blessing, a goddamn gift from the old gods in her opinion.

Arya noticed how Sansa tensed up and pouted her lip; the way she always did when she got angry but still tried to be the bigger person. What a mature person she was, taking everything thrown her way without complaint or protest, always doing as mother and father said, in fact Arya didn’t recall ever seeing her try to talk her father out of his decisions. Arya didn’t know which was worse, her dedication to her duties, or lack of free will at this point. She had never thought of her sister as pathetic, but the way she thought herself to be such an adult just because she took orders without complaints made it hard for Arya to think otherwise.

“You’re acting like a child Arya. Father has been nothing but good to us our whole lives and you know this. This is our duty as ladies of house Stark, and you don't get to complain about it just because you feel it’s unfair! Do you think you’re the only one to have ever been forced into an arranged marriage? No Arya, there are thousands of women out there going through the same thing, and you don't see them screaming about it!” Sansa argued, her voice close to yelling as well, it reminded her of mother, and it quite frankly made her want to hit her sister even more.

Arya knew she would pull the child card, it was the same argument she always used against her when she was cornered; You’re a child, stop being so childish Arya, would you grow up? It was a never-ending spiral of empty points. It was the same as when Sansa would point out her height, calling her small, and joke around saying she envied how big the world must look to her.

Pointless and dumb, pretty much everything that made Sansa, Sansa.

“Oh, spare me Sansa, would you stop pretending you’re mother and make a proper argument for once in your life! The lives of other women don’t matter to me, if they felt the same as me they’d act no different from me. And so-what if there are other women going through the same thing, that doesn’t mean you get to belittle me about _my_ feelings about _my_ life!” Arya said through frustration and a tight jaw.

She was jabbing a shaky finger into her own chest, hoping it would help her get some of her pent up frustration out. To her own disappointment however, it only made her want to punch something even more.

“Fine, then what are you going to do about it to get out this huh? Kill the king? that's treason Arya! You’ll kill your husband like you said? You’ll be getting yourself and the rest of our house killed! Maybe yourself then, make a fool out of father while you’re at it and pain the rest of the family? There is no _getting out_ Arya!” Sansa was finally yelling just as Arya had hoped she would.

“You don't think I realize that already? You don't think I know I can’t do anything about it but _fucking take it_ like you do? I know that already, alright, I fucking get it! Complaining about it all I have left, and you won't even let me do that, because what? It’s not proper and doesn’t give the family a good image? You are unbelievable and even more of a child than I am if that’s the case. Although I'm sure you’re happy you finally get to be fathers favorite since sucking up to him and mother is all you seem to really care about!” Arya was clawing at her dress side, her fingers tensing up as she spoke while having to force herself not to start throwing things around her, nor beat up her sister until she felt something crack.

“Favorite? I don't care about that sort of stuff Arya-”

“Yes you do, it’s all you ever talk about; you’re fathers favorite, father loves you, father would never let you marry if he didn’t have to. It’s insane just how pitiful you can be and how obvious you make it Sansa. You don't see me going around telling you that you are mother's favorite all the time, do I?” Arya interrupted her, and imitated her sisters high pitched voice with an undertone of mocking as she twirled a finger around a lock of damp hair.

Sansa’s mouth stood agape as she listened to Arya’s continuing rant. For the first time she was actually stunned as she listened to her sister, and for the first time Arya was actually glad she could rise her voice without their mother bursting into the room and taking Sansa’s side instinctively.

Arya knew she favorited her older sister, it wasn’t a secret for anyone who simply had eyes in their heads and could think a basic thought. Still she didn’t go around telling everybody and especially not her sister, because she knew that if she did as Sansa had done, she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

The argument wasn’t about picking favorites, she knew that, but it was as if the tub inside of her had been kicked over and now everything inside was getting splashed unto the floors. She had already been interrupted enough as it was, she didn’t need any more of her sisters nagging and what other nonsense she could whip out of her sleeve. Arya didn’t wait long for her sisters reply and turned on her heel and crawled under her covers once more and forcing her eyes shut.

“No? I didn’t think so either. Now get out, you came to check if I was dead or not and I'm not, so you can go back to father and tell him you’ve been a good girl and you did everything you could to get me out of bed, but I just wouldn’t come. Go ahead, I won't mind, you can have all the praise you want now so go and take it.”

There was a silence in the room for a moment, as if her sister was waiting for her to continue their argument so she could somehow end up as the winner. Arya didn’t bother however and did everything she could to pretend she was asleep and not listening to her. It wasn’t long however before her sister left the room, slamming the door hard behind her, making Arya flinch slightly as she laid still, only opening her eyes when she could no longer hear the stomps of her sister footsteps.

Arya didn’t eat that night, there was sent no servants to her chambers with food, and she refused to go to the hall for supper. She didn’t trust herself with sitting in front of her sister, nor did she feel like looking anyone in the eyes for the remaining of the day. So, she laid completely still once more, calming my breathing and making every effort to go back into her room like she’d dreamt before.

Her luck just wasn’t with her for the rest of the night however, and she never did get to return to sleep, so her night was spend like it’d been a month prior, only this time she could only hope starvation would take her life. She laid still in the warm and quiet room with no sounds of fire to sooth her, nor the winter winds to calm her nerves down, just her and her memories of her life from back home, and a dreamless sleep.

The morning bells woke her up the next morning, the sun barely peeking up over the horizon of the sea when a light knock on the door disturbed her sleep and three young servants walked in through her doors. Arya nearly jumped out of her bed as the petit women stood in the end of her bed, their hands folded neatly over her stomachs and their heads bowed down slightly saying their good mornings before one of them, the eldest looking, spoke up.

“M’lady, we are at your service today, we have orders from the king to take care of you and prepare you for tonight as well as escort you when the time is ready. We’ll begin drawing you your bath, in the meanwhile you should eat.”

The lady spoke kindly with her light and airy voice as one of the other servants picked up a large tray and placed it onto Arya’s bed, making sure not to catch her eye as she did so. Flustered Arya was felt speechless as the ladies waited for her reply, she rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand as she woke up, trying to recall what caused them to fuss so much, when she remembered what day it was.

“Right, thank you… let me know when it’s ready.” She muttered slowly; her voice still raspy from sleep. The women left her to eat alone, and the smell caught her nose immediately as she tried to gather her thoughts from yesterday. She let her gaze wander unwantedly over towards her sister bed, it was empty as she expected, she hadn’t slept a whole lot last night, so she was sure she would’ve heard if she’d come back. She couldn’t help but wonder where Sansa was as she pulled the tray cover away and watched with hungry eyes as steam erupted around her and the smell of fresh meat conquered her senses, making her dismiss the thought entirely.

The tray was filled to the brim with all the meat, bread and fresh fruit she would eat. It must have been from the cargo she saw yesterday, she thought to herself as she started to stuff her face, her body acting like she hadn’t eaten for days.

As she ate she watched the morning sky as it turned lighter with each passing minute and she noticed how doves of pure white and birds would crowd the sky and fill the Red Keep with their songs. They hadn’t been there before, so she couldn’t help but wonder where they’d arrived from, or if she just simply hadn’t looked up before.

Somehow her chest felt lighter as she ate, having spilled her guts yesterday might have done her some good, as her mood seemed more tolerant considering how her yesterday had turned out. Then again, the day had yet to start and seeing how she was at her peak that very moment would mean it could only go down-hill from there surely. She dismissed those thought for now however, not wanting to ruin the taste of the food in front of her, and as she gulped down a large quantity of wine within seconds to clear her head she nodded to herself.

Within moments the servants had come back to her and escorted her out of the room and into the royal bath chambers. It was a large soaking bath, the water steaming and making the walls of the room wet and the air moist to breath in. A lady seemed to have noticed Arya’s sudden discomfort and rushed to open up a window and let out the steam by fanning it lightly with a piece of cloth. Without warning two ladies grabbed the bottom of Arya’s garment and lifted it above her head causing her to squeal like a pig as she was forced naked in front of these strangers.

She was quick to cover herself up, as they lead her down into the steaming water that felt boiling against her skin. If it wasn’t because she was being held down, there would’ve been nothing stopping her from jumping back out, but she stayed underneath the water and watched as her skin turned red at the sudden heat.

Without word a lady grabbed her arm and started to scrub it down with a coarse piece of cloth. Arya bit down into her lip as it felt like she was being shredded like a piece of cheese, only to look over to find out how true that statement was by watching her dead skin and some hair turn into small rolls as they fell from her arm.

She wasn’t sure there even was skin left on her body after the maid was done with the scrubbing, and while that wasn’t completely the case, her skin _had_ turned even more red and sensitive to the touch. The maid lifted up her other arm to continue her work making Arya continue her morning in pain, biting down cries of pain as her whole body got shredded in the same terrible manner.

Arya wasn’t sure how long it took before they finally let her sit in the water and rest, out of breath and tired, not to say her whole body was buzzing from pain. She would watch as the sun rose higher and higher onto the sky as they continued to wash her, starting from her toes and working their way up to her face and hair.

She hadn’t felt so oiled up since before she left Winterfell, and she recalled how much she hated the feeling of oiled skin as they rinsed and oiled her up time and time again. Her nails were picked clean, brushed, and cut into shape. Her hair was cut into an even length and the wound on her leg was treated with extra care, a maester being sent to cleanse it and heal it as much as he could.

By the time they were done Arya practically had to be carried back to her chambers by the women as her legs were unable to carry the weight of her body as both the wine from before and the exhaustion had been tying her down. She was placed carefully down onto the large chair by Sansa’s vanity and the ladies opened up the room and started to comb her hair silently as the heated breeze from the outside was used to dry up her hair. Arya’s head felt back as the comfort of having the combs run over her scalp caused her to shut her eyes and fall into a light sleep as her body caught up from the sleep it should’ve gotten in the night.  

She felt each time the servants pulled in her hair, their fingers carefully working as they braided and twisted her hair. It wasn’t particularly long like most ladies, she had cut it when she was younger, she remembered her mother’s scream when she saw and her brothers laughter as they mocked her, calling her their little brother for over a year before it had gotten a tad bit longer again. Arya didn’t mind it short, but she knew her hair would’ve been to her navel by now had she not done it at that age, that thought made it all worth it in her opinion.

Before she knew it a lady shook her shoulder lightly to wake her up, asking if it was to her liking. Arya stared up at her hair, for the first time it wasn’t in a bun and it wasn’t wavy either, it was set close to how Sansa set her hair, only small braids pulled from her forehead and onto the back where it was bound into one, the bottom of her hair hanging loosely just over her shoulders. She looked like a stranger. Her skin was clean had lost its redness, that had been replaced with a oily glow, her hair made her look like someone else entirely, almost older… almost dignified.

She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she didn’t hate it either. The ladies let her sit for a moment as they pulled out an all too long dress from a crate, beige with embroidery. It was a dress her mother had made, she could tell from the stitching, and while it wasn’t a whole lot of detail, it was more than what she would like. Arya had no remorse when it came to having the length removed, she wanted no train, and she almost asked them if they hadn’t confused her and her sisters dresses.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she stood up and walked over to the dresser, the ladies stripping her of her garment and dressing her carefully, and she flinched as the lady tightened her corset, suffocating her lungs and nearly throwing up her breakfast.

Arya couldn’t bend her upper body when they’d finished, asking her to wait in her room until night time and left her, uncomfortable, stiff and alone in the warm room in a cotton dress. She sat down by her window, her back straight and she could barely lean back without feeling like she was bending a rib.

She looked down her chest, watching the stitching as it made its way to her hip, it was at her right shoulder was a cross stitched wolf, it was the same as her pendant that hung over her neck. It was a northern style dress, it only lacked the furs, but she would get a heat stroke had she worn them. The material was already thick and the silver under her breast as well as the corset made her sweat enough as it was.

As she sat and watched over the sea, she noticed how the soft orange light shun in the quiet waves as the sun laid its head on the water. A whole day had passed with just getting ready, if this was what it meant to be a lady, then she wasn’t sure she would be able to get anything done for the rest of her life. She wasn’t sure she could endure the scrubbing every day, and if that was the case then marriage really would be the death of her.

All of this, just to be presentable to a man for a few hours, how much more miserable did they want her to be become? She was like a present, all wrapped up, to be stripped off and get used like a toy later. She didn’t think there was a word for just how pathetic it made her she feel, she was lower than a mare, lower than any whore on the planet, it was almost sad enough to be considered a bad joke.

It was her last hours in freedom, yet she could think of nothing as she sat there and only stared at the sun as her time ran out. There was nothing to do but sit and look out over the ocean as it laid there, completely still as it ate up the sun. She was used to the darkness of the north, used to the days being short and the nights long. She would've never thought the day would come where she would wish for a day to grow longer, not once had she wished she could swim out into the sea and watch time go backwards.

Today was the first time it crossed her mind.

Her eyes called for sleep, but she was afraid to let them, not wanting to miss a single ray of light, as if it was the last sun she would ever see until the world turn into an eternal night. She let the last rays of heat tickle her nose and cheeks, kissing her goodbye as it lulled her eyes shut, the orange light engulfing her vision behind her closed eyes, watching as colors flew across her lids.

Warm reds, cool purples, blues and yellow, all dancing in front of her. She let herself be entertained by their dance, her throat clogging up as well as her chest hurting as they turned darker and darker with each passing moment, and suddenly went cloudy when tears flooded her eyes and she watched in silence as each one of them would wash away with tears she couldn't dry.  

She opened up her eyes to stare out over a star filled sky, the sea and the sky morphing into one big dark hole, the stars looking like a splintered sun as they spread their tiny lights over the waters and the rest of city. She exhaled with a heavy sigh as she gazed over her shoulder, turning her attention to the light knock that had woken her up.

“Come in.” She’d said lightly, knowing they didn’t hear her, but at the very least waited before entering.

Her father opened the door slowly, and stood still in the doorframe, his hands limp at his side and face calm as he stared over at her with his usual lazy lids.

He wore his dark leathers, his long coat and the stark sigil pinned on his shoulder, he carried Ice at his side, it was the first time in months he’d gotten to do that. His hair was brushed back and tied to the back, he was cleanly shaven and washed clean, not as thoroughly as she’d been probably. Arya rolled her shoulders and built up a fake smile to the best of her ability.

“Is it now then?” She asked, her dry tone not aligning well with the empty smile she put on.

“I'm afraid so.” She heard him mumble and she took her last glance at the black sea before pushing herself up the chair and patted down her dress before looking up at father, getting a measurement of him as he did her. They walked silently down the quiet corridors, it was close to midnight, everyone was likely asleep now, she thought to herself as a smirk was pushed up on her lips having noticed how it’d slipped away.

She didn’t know who would be there, Ned had said only the necessary but she didn’t know what that meant, in her head it mean only four people, her, her father, the king, and lord Baratheon. She hadn’t been to many weddings, southern or northern, her mother had explained it to her at one point, so she knew the basics of what she was supposed to do, but that was about it, it wasn’t like anything else had really mattered.

“Arya, are you nervous my dear?” Ned spoke lowly as he walked behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut for just s bit as she caught his voice, she hadn’t heard his tone so sincere in a while, and she realised she’d missed it despite it being horrible timing for her to start crying again.

“No.” She said just as quietly.

“Scared?”

“No.” She said again.

They’d reached the bottom of the hall and Ned pushed open a few more doors as they exited into a dark forest, lit up by touches, the dim lighting making it hard to make out the trees in their full form as they melted together with the darkness.

“I thought the Red keep didn’t have a heart tree… only a godswood.” She mumbled glancing up at crowns of leaves over her.

Her father nodded slightly. “Yes, but when I heard from your mother that you wanted a northern wedding, I made sure to collect some leaves from the one back home… so it will still be valid.” He said hesitantly, thinking it would affect Arya, but it didn’t.

She had stopped concerning herself with arguing, it didn’t matter anymore, no matter how much she kicked, screamed and cried, she would still be married to a stranger.

“Right.” She said, almost a whisper as they turned around a corner where they all stood, eight people in total. She could immediately spot her sister Sansa, tall as she was, standing in a deep purple dress, hair pushed back and chin held high.

Next to her was her little prince, Joffrey Baratheon, like the twat he was he stared at her with a donkey smile and a satisfied look. Next to her was his indifferent mother the Queen, a blond and armored man Arya didn’t know, and Lord Tyrion stood next him, his eyes calmly roaming their surroundings.

On the other side of the touches, stood an old man, someone she yet again didn’t recognize, he stood tall and respectfully as he looked over her way. In the middle of it all was the king, fat as he was and towering behind a low wooden altar arms folded over his chest and he looked impatient as with everything else he had to attend to.

In the middle of it all, and in front of the altar stood the awkward and timid, yet still tall and wide, lord of Storm’s End and the Stormlands, son of the king of seven kingdoms and one of the potential heirs to the iron throne, Gendry Baratheon. He was clean again, but the darkness around him didn’t make it seem so at first glance, he wore formal leathers, a tight fit even she could tell from where she stood.

He was uncomfortable, either it be the people, the situation, her or just himself, she didn’t know and she couldn’t ask either. Despite his tense posture it wasn't something he gave away on his face, it was blank and tired looking, much like she must’ve looked when she turned her attention to her father as he wrapped an arm around hers and held her hand.

“Father…-” She spoke quietly, holding her breath as she listen to him hum in response and swallowing a lump of dry spit into her throat. “-I'm terrified.” She whispered as quietly as her voice would let her before it cracked, a sob treating to escape her as Ned’s large hand covered her and squeezed it lightly saying nothing in response as he started to lead her towards the people slowly, and she had to focus on breathing with each step as she walked closer to the altar.

At the halfway point the king clears his throat, sending cold shivers down Arya’s spine as she squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, “Who comes before the Old gods this night?” Robert’s deep voice rung over the forest; he clearly hadn’t practiced much as he seemed uncertain midway through his sentence.

Her father let go of her hand slowly and steps forward, his tall figure like a shadow before her, “Arya of house Stark come to be wed. A woman grown, flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the old gods, Who comes to claim her?”

Arya shook to her core at his words, she came to beg for nothing but the gods mercy, that they wouldn’t let their eyes astray from her yet. She heard slow footsteps and opened up her eyes, to see her lord who did as practiced and said the remaining words, “Gendry, of house… Baratheon, who gives her?” He seemed out of breath, no so much the tension anymore, it was the lack there off, it was heavy doubt and guilt that coated his words. He knew it, and she knew it.

“Eddard, of house Stark, her father.” Ned finished off and he took her hand slowly, and handed her over to Gendry his eyes still avoiding hers and simply looked down on her hand as she did his.

It was large like her fathers, but felt nothing like it, his warm, very warm in fact, but it was coarse to the touch. Rough since hard skin covered his palm and fingertips, his nails were cut short and some were broken at the ends, some had blood blisters under the nail bed, and some hadn’t been cleaned properly. She tried not to frown visibly as she examined them the short while it lasted, throughout the previous day she done nothing but touch the hands of lords so she knew that it wasn’t normal. Every hand of every lord she’d touched, including her fathers, had been softer than his, maybe dry but nothing as hard and rough to the touch as Gendry’s.

His was like the hands of a servant, not a lord.

The kings voice boomed once more as he asked her, “Lady Arya of house Stark, do you take this man?”

Her voice was lost in her throat for a second as she suddenly remembered the sun and the dance behind her closed eyes as she looked down onto the blood red leaves of the heart tree. It was the closest thing she would ever be to Winterfell again, and it was the only thing remotely close to the old gods’ ears. They would hear her, no matter how quiet she spoke, or even if it was just in her thoughts, and they would see her now, in her most vulnerable of forms, and she begged them one last time to not leave her alone.

“I take this man.”

The forest goes quiet and the wind lays still, for just a second more before the king breaks the peace with his laughter and his loud clapping cheering loudly as he walks around the altar and wraps his arms around Arya her hand dropping from Gendry’s as she’s pushed out.

“Thats it my dear! Welcome to the family, as it always should have been!”

Arya felt her stomach turn as he squeezed her shoulders. She couldn’t breathe properly already so the sudden grip around her didn’t help as she staggered around on her feet for the short moment it lasted. She couldn’t find the words to answer Robert, her mind still clouded and adjusting itself as it processed the decisions she’d made.

Sansa walked up to her from behind, waiting until the king let Arya go before placing a hand on her shoulder saying nothing as she pulled a dismal smile and ran her thumb over her hold. Arya felt her heart pound against her chest, the pain from yesterday still lingering between them like a bleeding wound. Neither of them spoke, they couldn’t find the words, Arya could imagine it just fine on her own though. The young prince walked up next to Sansa nearly pushing her aside as he made his way in front of Arya disregarding their moment of silence.

“Yes I must congratulate you my lady, we are family now, of a sort…-” He said his voice still as annoying as Arya remembered it being, and watched him as he eyed someone over her shoulder, planting his hand hard firmly on it and shook her as he returned to smile at her,

“-Shame there will be no celebrations, ah, but I forgot, you’ll be coming at to the feast tomorrow! And there we shall cheer your name out and name you the official lady Baratheon of the Stormlands in front of all the lords of the Seven Kingdom!” Joffrey laughed alone as he let go of her, and Arya guessed that it was at least some comfort that it hadn’t been him she would was to be wedded to.

She truly did pity her sister. She suddenly didn’t feel like staying anymore and looked over at Gendry who stood behind her, overlooking the situation before catching her asking eyes and leaning over to the old man who came forward after a short nod.

The old man asked the people for their forgiveness and escorted Arya away without further notice. She was thankful that he had understood her and she walked away quietly, her father giving her a soft nod as they locked eyes.

It still hurt she realized, looking at her father made knots of resentment in her gut which she couldn’t find in her heart to loosen up, not even when she thought about it being the last time she would be seeing him smile like that again.

Arya followed the old man into an unfamiliar corridor, he didn’t speak to her and didn’t take a second to glance her way as they walked. He must have realized that she didn’t have the energy in her to initiate small talk, and simply wanted the next hours to pass as quickly as time would allow it, which to her own experience wasn’t very fast. The man opened up a door into a new chamber, it was larger than her and Sansa’s and it even smelled different. The air was dry, much like everywhere else in the castle but somehow it was as if every moisture in her mouth was getting sucked out of even her lungs whenever she drew breath.

She glanced over at the man as he let her walk in, still standing idly in the door, she could feel his eyes examining her closely from where he stood but it was not like the workers, it was simply mindful of her.

“What now?” she asked, her voice cracking for the first time in as she felt her heartbeat starting to pick up. The old man blinked softly as he grabbed the side of the door and cleared his throat, speaking up in an accent she didn’t know.

“Rest m’lady, the lad will be up soon.”

She killed a sob in her throat as the door shut behind him, leaving her alone yet again, and she could bring herself to do nothing but stand there, in the middle of the room, as her throat became more and more dry. She noticed the jug standing in the window and her shaking hands immediately found their way around it and brought it to her lips. The wine was warm and taste horrible in her opinion as it stuck to her throat as it went down, yet she didn’t stop gulping until she was out of breath, and even so she continued after only a brief moment, adjusting herself on her feet as she felt the warm liquor wake its way down her chest and into her stomach.

Arya wasn’t the biggest drinker, but she would hold her own weight and she could tell when the alcohol started to hit her.  It wasn’t enough though to make her black out and forget the next morning though, that much she knew, just enough to redden her cheeks and tire her eyes further.

The door opened up some time later when Arya had placed herself onto a chair and tried her best to distract herself from overthinking. Gendry walked in, a scowl on his face and the top of this leather coat open. He looked frustrated for the first few seconds before he noticed her silhouette at the end of the room, the side of her face lit up lightly by a small candle she’d found. He’d stopped in his tracks and his face changed into a regretful stare, like a deer caught in a trap with the hounds growling at it.

It was as if he’d forgotten about the past hour already and she’d suddenly jumped back into his life like a slap in the face. She was unsure how to feel about that, thankful might a good start.

“M’lady.” he breathed quietly struggling to catch his thoughts again as he closed the door behind him. Arya stood up in her seat holding onto the arm of the chair to stabilize herself as the wine seemed to have affected her enough to make her waver.

“My lord.” She said just as quietly, and watched as he sighed deeply after having walked over and grabbing the now empty jug of wine.

He closed his eyes for moment and placed down the jug before leaning both of his hands against the window sill, holding his head low as he took slow and steady breaths through his mouth. Arya could do nothing but stand there, awkward and tense in her all to uncomfortable dress, but for the first time in her life she wished that she could keep it on. Gendry made a horse like huff before pushing himself back up and ran a hand over his head and another over his pants, wiping them clean.

“You must be tried M’lady, you should rest.” He said suddenly, his voice rasp and seemingly exhausted himself as he gestured to the bed in the middle of the room.

Arya’s mind drew a blank as she looked over at it and then to him, she thought she’d built enough courage beforehand, but it was as if just his words had been enough to crumble all of her hard work. She trembled just enough for Gendry to notice through the darkness and dim lighting, he moved over to his dresser and started to search for something suddenly, then he pulled out a white shirt and walked over towards her and stood at a good arm’s length away from her as he handed it out to her.

“Wear this… Don't worry it’s clean.” He said when he noticed her puzzled stare the large shirt, but it wasn’t the cleanliness of the shirt that concerned her, it was the mere offer of it that made her uneasy. She reached out and grabbed a hold of the shirt, the fabric soft to the touch, but still didn’t move.

“Why are you giving me this?” She finally managed the say after a good moment of fighting within herself trying to squeeze out the words.

Gendry stopped in his tracks as he’d made his way back to his dresser and looked back at her with an unsure brow stuck to his face

 “You have nothing else. If it isn’t to your taste M’lady I could-”

“No.” she interrupted his abruptly, not wanting to let go of his offer in sheer fright that it would somehow change his mind if he finished his sentence. Her arms hugged the shirt tightly, afraid to let it go and lose what little cover and dignity she could have. He noticed how she her eyes averted him, staring down onto her feet as she rooted herself to the floor, and he gave a short nod.

“Alright…”

None of them moved for a while, just simply shared the same air and space, no words being spoken as well as no eyes being locked. They were poison to one another, oil and water refusing to blend.

At one-point Arya couldn’t stand there anymore, her heel turning sore and her stomach swelling up from the wine and she could no longer handle having the corset squeeze her. She also got very wary when remembering her sister mentioning that consummating a marriage was very important, especially to southerners, it was so important that they would send maids to listen behind the door to make sure that the deed was done.

“Um, would you-” She started out, trying not to shake as she looked up at Gendry who was quick to nod his head and begin to turn his back to her.

Sorry.” she heard him mumble, and she hated that she had to cut it out in stone for him.

“No- I mean… I need help… with my dress.” She mumbled slowly not so sure if she should invite him closer to her, but she needed the help. There was a point in making a dress close in the back after all, it was the donee that was supposed to unwrap the present.

She was afraid to look at his expression after he’d coughed up whatever it was he was swallowing, so she held the shirt close and merely turned around, looking into the wall as she listened after his footsteps and fought her breathing to slow it down, closing her eyes to calm her heart as it glopped its way up her throat, filling her ears with it’s hammering.

It’d been so distracting that she didn’t even hear him as he walked over as per intention, brushing off her hair causing her to flinch and stiffen in her spot. His fingers worked quickly but fumbled with the ties so much that she wasn’t even sure he was even looking at what he was doing. His fingers were scorching as they brushed against her skin, in fact her whole back had turned rather warm, and she’d be concerned about it if it wasn’t for the fact that soon the only thing Arya could focus on was the satisfying sensation that ran through her as the dress loosened its hold around her.

She drew a sharp breath as soon as she was able to push the fabric off her shoulders, and as if on cue Gendry left her already, leaving a strange chill behind as he walked back to his space by the window and kept his eyes towards the city’s few flickering lights. Arya peeked over her shoulder briefly before setting aside the shirt and finished stripping herself of its hold completely, before quickly pulling the large shirt over her.

His eyes didn’t waver back at her, not even once, and he kept his posture stiff as if he’d turned into stone. The shirt didn’t cover her completely, just barely in her own opinion, but she couldn’t afford to think twice of it and just inhaled deeply before forcing her way over to the bed, sinking herself under the covers. She sat there, as if waiting for something to happen, her body still not able to relax itself as she stared holes into Gendry's back.

“No need to be afraid…I won't touch you M’lady, you can rest assured.” He said after long pause of her just waiting to get it over with.

She blinked, wide eyed and still frightful, not trusting him with at his word. He’d obvious felt her staring, and knew why, yet he remained completely calm and peaceful.

 “You won’t?” She asked, not disappointed just confused at his lack of interest seeing as most men wouldn’t even hesitate were they in his position. She saw him shake his head lightly not turning to look at her.

“No… I won't.” He breathed.

“What about… won't they know?” She asked, embarrassed of how childish she sounded, as if fearing a scolding from the king or worse her father.

“They won't, and your name won't be hurt M’lady, I’ll make sure of it…. There’s no one around.”

It was a relief to hear, her previous self would have never cared if people had known or not, but with the amount of pressure laid on her now made it hard not to grown nervous. If people knew she couldn’t do it, it wouldn’t only hurt her, it would hurt her family and disgrace her father and mother. Not that she herself had much pride left, but there had been a reason for her preparations, to do her one duty as a lady of house Stark. She’d been prepared to lay down her pride and submit if needed to shield her name, no matter what damaged she may personally take from such a surrender.

She couldn’t argue with not being wanted however, and for once in her life she was happy she didn’t have Sansa’s looks or charms. Arya was relieved to know she could still hold onto the little bit of herself of what was left, but she was still paranoid about people figuring it out in the back of her mind.

As for trusting his word she still had yet to decide on. He had done her the favor of escorting her back and staying kind to her to her in despite of her breaking his sword, and being rude to him on multiple locations already. She had heard nothing of her incident yesterday which meant that he must have also kept his promise to her then also, so there was no reason for him to break the little trust she had in him now.

Not that she really had the choice not to, if he were to suddenly decide to change his mind would she be powerless to do anything about it, so she settled herself on her side and placed her head on a pillow, her back turned to the window, looking into the darkness and listening after movements in the room, but there was nothing and soon her own heartbeat would lull her into sleep, not thinking twice about what-if’s as she let herself get carried into a deep sleep.

\--

Her body startled her awake as she sat upright, cold sweat covering her from head to toe and she clawed at the covers as she scanned the room, morning light barely making its way through the windows and wasn't strong enough to form sharp edges shadows yet. She’d forgotten nothing from last night, and every possible nerve in her body still pulsating as if she’d never caught a wink of sleep either. She looked to her side where untouched covers still laid as promised, cold and flat with only a cool breeze to flutter it ever so slightly.

She was alone in the room, nothing had been moved or changed since she closed her eyes, as if Gendry had never been there no begin with.

Unsure of what to do, she listened after footsteps from the halls, but the walls the thick and the door too far away so she could only catch the sounds of the morning birds as they began their songs. A low growl from her stomach interrupted her and she realized that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She spotted grapes on the windowsill and pulled back the covers in pursuit of her snack when she stopped and looked down herself.

The shirt really did just barely cover everything so she quickly took a blanket off the bed and wrapped herself in it, her feet shuffling through the fabric as she made her way over, the burst of the sour grape making her cringe as it woke her up.

Refreshed by the first one she continued to plop more and more into her mouth smiling to herself as she found a quiet bliss whenever she ate. She looked down from the windows and realized it had the perfect view down into the grounds were people were ever so slowly being their work, hoping for an early closing time that morning.

The door behind her opened up and Gendry entered quietly with a small letter in his hands and narrow eyes as he studied it closely. Arya was almost surprised his focus could be broken as it took him several steps into the room before he noticed she’d woken up. He blinked at her slowly and then studied her posture silently as he rolled up the piece of paper and snug it in his pocket.

“M’lady,… Good morning.”

“Good morning.” she replied chewing down on one last grape she’d placed in her cheek and adjusting her hold around the blanket.

“Well rested I hope?”

She wasn’t so sure about that, but at least she had somehow gotten her sleep, quick and dreamless.

“Yes,” she lied, “and you my lord?”

His face twisted oddly for a split question before he nodded, “Yes, more or less.”

There was a lot of things Arya wasn’t, a proper lady, a good cook and not even a decent illustrator just to name a few. However, there were some things Arya would pride herself with, which was her judgement of character and her ability to know when a person was lying. Despite her already knowing he wasn't good at lying didn’t change the fact that he made it incredibly obvious to her even then.

His eyes were just that tiny bit bloodshot, and he carried light bags underneath the lids that already hung low over his blue eyes, which he would cover with his slow blinks every so often. Another one of his giveaways was the fact that he hadn’t changed out of his weeding leathers and his voice was still just as rasp as it had been the previous night. He seemed disrupted and he looked as if he was forcing himself whenever he had to move, his walk staggering a tiny bit more than what she knew it did normally.

She wondered what had kept him awake, but didn’t find it in her to call him out on his white lie either.

“Is something the matter my lord?” She asked quietly as he made his way to the dresser and picked out a new coat and stripping himself of the other one so he stood only in a shirt familiar to hers. He quickly threw on the new and much lighter leathers, strapping it firmly to his chest as he fussed about, grabbing a wet cloth from a bucket and carelessly washing himself before looking up at her, a drop of water still hanging from his chin.

“Suppose there is always something m’lady, why do you ask?” Gendry spoke lightly as he rubbed his cheeks and rolled his shoulders, the water had clearly woken him up a tiny bit, and he seemed in a rush to get somewhere like always.

“No reason, just… never mind-” She stopped mid-way, figuring that now wasn’t the time to start being nosy. He wasn’t her father so she could no longer ask these things that didn’t revolve around her. She looked back over at the bed and wrinkled her nose, “-The maids will be here soon, are you still sure nothing will happen?”

It took Gendry a second to figure out what she’d meant before he looked over at the bed as well and made his way over, lifting up the covers and throwing them onto the floors at his side. He didn’t waste much time in examining it before he took to his belt and pulled out a thin knife and ran it over his palm making him grit his teeth in pain as he watched the blood erupt from his skin.

Arya panic as she rushed over, watching with a held breath and a lack of words, as Gendry opened and closed his palm slowly, watching with a careful eye as the blood pooled

“What are you doing!?” She said rather bluntly.

Gendry didn’t reply but simply took his hand and wiped it in the middle of the bed smearing it out in an uneven pool before grabbing the covers and throwing them carelessly over the blood and threw Arya’s pillow on the floor. He wiped his hand in the wet cloth he’d held and glanced up at her through the corner of his eye.

“That should do it, sorry if it doesn’t look flattering m’lady, but I might have cut too deep by accident.” He seemed so indifferent about the fact that he was the one bleeding, that when it oblivious as to understanding why he’d done it the first place it bewildered Arya.

“Well why did you do it then?” Arya said, hesitant to act out as he stared at her with an unsure brow before he sighed and simply moved on as if he’d given up on explaining himself.

“I have to go M’lady, the maids will come with whatever you need so I ask that you stay in here until I come back.”

“What about the gathering?” Arya asked, taken aback by his sudden request, and she saw him curse under his breath before shooting her an apologetic face as he headed for the door.

“I… I don't know yet.” he said slowly before he shot out of the door just as suddenly as he’d arrived, she stood there in a shock and daze as the bells of the sept started ringing and waking up the remaining people around notifying them of the promised day of the real royal wedding.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 3 for the story! Once more I thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a bit longer than the other two but since I also want stuff to start happening I wanted to finish setting the stage to the best of my ability, but like I've said, its a slow burn and we don't want to fire off the best fireworks in the begning of the show but we do need some sparks to get there. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> (edit: updated 08-01-20)


	4. Chapter 4

Arya sat in silence as she waited out the hours, just as Gendry had promised the maids came with all she needed, food, clothing, and a fresh bowl of water and towel. She didn’t look when they took to cleaning the bed however, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to keep the straight face if she saw their expression. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be embarrassed, she knew the truth after all, still she couldn’t help but wish she could go into hiding having not felt this type of shame since her first flowering.

The food was great as always, and she hoped it wouldn’t be her only meal of the day as the last few breakfasts had been for once. She was starting to lose weight as well, and her back arched more than usual, just as her sides were painful to touch. Bruises had shown up where the corset had been squeezing her too hard, the red lines so clear that she was afraid they might become permanent.

Her eyes caught sight of people cheering at the front gate and further down the streets, all lining up to see Sansa’s carriage when she would make her way to the sept. Her chest squeezed when Arya thought about missing the wedding, she couldn’t go at request of Gendry so she was forced to watch as servants prepared the lift for her favorable sister.

They still had yet to talk again, and even though Arya was still frustrated with her older sister, that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to be there when her dream finally came true. However, she no longer had her freedom like before, and she was forced to listen to her new husband no matter how much she despised the sheer fact. She tried not to be too pessimistic though and tried to look on the bright side, she wouldn’t have to be surrounded by the other lords and would be free of the prince’s remarks not to say the Queens judging eyes. The thought did get her in a better mood, but not enough to make her want to smile.

She sat in the window sill and waited, hoping she could catch glimpse of Sansa before she left, but there was no sign of her and the people started to calm themselves when nothing happened after half an hour. They had already had the morning gathering she’d heard, and the sun was almost at its highest which was when the ceremony was supposed to begin. It felt wrong to her that nothing was happening, but she didn’t question it too much since she might have missed something when Sansa had told her about all the things she needed to do to prepare for the ceremony.

A knock on the door broke the silence in the room, and she turned her attention back into the room as the old man from yesterday walked in with haste, bowing his head down at the sight of her.

“M’lady I'm sorry for interrupting you, but I’ve been ordered by lord Baratheon to escort you out of here. You’ll need to come quickly, we don't have much time.” The shakiness in his voice, and the way he was quick to gather some things at Gendry’s desk as he spoke stirred a curiosity in her.

“Where are we going?” She asked calmly as she hopped down from the sill and looked over at the old man who was rummaging through stacks of paper.

“On a ship M’lady, I'm afraid we won't be returning for a while, so grab only what you need." The old man fussed around while Arya just stood there idly, she had nothing she necessarily needed, everything of importance to her had already been left behind in Winterfell.

“What’s going on?” She asked, a nervous tension finally starting to shake its way up through her as the man grabbed her wrist out of the blue and looked at her with a wary and yet apologetic eye.

“Forgive me, there is no time to explain right now, but you are going to have to trust that I mean you no harm… Got everything?”

She’d tensed up at his words as she stared back into his blue eyes, they didn’t scare her, and it wasn’t like she didn’t trust him, he had shown her kindness last night after all. It was the suddenness in the situation that made her hesitate a bit, but nonetheless she nodded ever so lightly and let herself get dragged out through the door.

“What about my hus- lord Baratheon?” She choked on the word, she still couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, it felt unfamiliar and wrong to her.

He seemed to understand her nonetheless, and he helped her down the stairs and lead her down an path she didn’t even know existed, “He’ll meet us there, he’s being held up at the moment, hence why he sent me instead, you needn’t worry however.”

She didn’t worry, she was just uneasy and hoped to see a more familiar face and get an explanation as soon as possible. She was led down into a dark pathway, presumably underneath the castle with their only source of light being the torch the man held up in front of them.

Arya noticed how he kept glancing behind them, as if someone was to jump at them in the darkness as they walked. He dropped the torch into a puddle when light started to show up at the end of the tunnel, and the sound of waves echoed into the darkness. There was a small dinghy at the end of their path, pushed up onto the small shore as it waited for them. It tugged in Arya’s chest as she looked over to the old man who urged her to jump into it.

She suddenly wanted to see her father again and cling to him like a little child when she flinched as the dinghy was pushed into the waves. She had never been in the sea before, and the waves were much rougher up close.

“Thought you said we were going on a ship.” She muttered, her hands clinging to the sides of the boat as it rocked when the old man jumped in it, sitting across from her and grabbing onto the ores and beginning to row in steady strides.

“We are M’lady, but we can’t risk being stopped, so the ships have already set off from the harbor.”

“Won’t the guards spot us from the walls though?” She asked and watched him shrug lightly as he rowed.

“Perhaps, they won't know why though nor will they be able to stop us so far out on the waters.” He had a point Arya thought, and kept quiet as they got carried further out into the sea and brought up to a dark wooden ship, the stag sigil on its banners as well as on the shields on its sides. It was the largest of the few surrounding it, and it amazed Arya since she’d never seen a ship from up close, the creaking from the wood exciting her more than it scared her.

A man’s head looked down at them from above before yelling out and asking for assistance. Not long after rope fell from the sides of the ship and the old man quickly began to hook on the hooks onto the metal hinges on each end of the boat before asking Arya to hold on and calling up to the crew above them. She did as instruct, and stared wide-eyed as they were lifted upwards and onto the edge of the ship.

The old man was quickly off the boat and turned to offer a hand, but Arya was a step ahead and had already her right leg steadily on the deck of the ship and stepped out only with a light stumble when the ship rocked gently at the push of a wave.

She watched the crew as they barely acknowledged her and simply continued on with their work as they prepared the ship for departure. There were soldiers sitting around the edge of the ship, chatting light heartedly as they waited around, unaware of the reason for their sudden departure like Arya, but it didn’t seem like they cared much either way. Arya was led into the lord’s cabin at the back of the ship, a large glass window in the back lighting up the room and worked as a frame to the view of the deep blue sea just outside, that were the cause for the whole ships gently rocking.

Arya found it hard to get used to and she kept losing her footing every so often, holding onto a desk for support. She stayed there at request of the old man while he would find her something to eat, she was a bit nervous as she thought about her family left behind in the keep, unaware of her sudden departure. She hoped Sansa had gotten safely to the sept by now, and was ready to say her vows to the prince and fulfill her duty to their family, Arya’s only regret was not being able to see her smile as well as their fathers' proud look towards his eldest daughter when she said them.

The old man pushed the door open with his back, a tray occupying his hands with both bread, cheese and wine stacked on top. Arya wasn’t necessarily hungry, but she did have a tendency to eat when stressed so she appreciated the gesture.

“How long will we stay here?” She asked quietly while her hands were picking at the end of a slice of pale bread.

“Hopefully not too long, the lad knows that he doesn’t have much time before they notice the ships have left the harbor.”

“Where is he then?” The old man shrugged as he gazed out over the waters behind her.

“Was about to speak to your father before he send me to fetch you but… I can only hope he’s safe.” Arya stopped mid chewing as looked up at him through loose hairs, “Why wouldn’t he be, what's going on?”

He wrinkled his nose before shaking his head slightly as if he'd retracted a thought, “I don't know the full story M’lady, the lad has been quiet since we got here… It's not unusual behavior for him to do that, given him and the king’s relationship, but after the first time him and your father spoke he’s been refusing to attend to any of the feasts and stayed as far from the keep as it would allow him to.”

Arya blinked at the mention of her father, and frowned her brows as she leaned back in her seat.

“When they first spoke? What did they talk about?”

The old man sighed as he placed his cup down after a sip of wine, “Lord Stark first came to see the lad with the king the day you arrived in king’s landing, what they talked about I’m not at liberty to say I’m afraid. I left the room as soon as they entered so you’ll have to ask the boy… Although....” He stretched out his words as he scratched his beard with an unsure expression on his face, lost in thought for a moment too long.

“Although what?” Arya spoke up when she realized he was going to cut himself short.

She was somewhat eager to know, after all, she was the person that had been denied the sight of her sister's wedding and been rushed out of the keep because of it, so at this point she felt entitled to it.

She had never been one to be nosy when it came to other people's business, and definitely not when it came to people she didn’t know such as Gendry, however, she made exceptions when it involved her or her family. She was very much aware that; a lady should not pry into her lords decisions, but it wasn’t like her own mother followed her own rules regardless, not to say that Arya herself had never been one to follow guidelines or rules to begin with. The old man seemed to have wanted to retract his words, because he shook his head at her before he folded his hands behind his back, then lowered his head in an apology.

“Forgive me M’lady, but as his advisor I shouldn’t run my mouth without his consent. He will arrive soon and then I'm sure he’ll make the decision to tell you himself if you ask. Until then I ask you to be patient, I’ll send for you-”

“Alright then.” Arya interrupted, not needing his excuses. If he wasn’t going to say anything then he should just have said so instead of trying to comfort her with flowery mannerisms.

The men outside caused an uproar not long after, their yells echoing around the ship and their intense running sent a rumble through the wooden planks. As if knowing what had caused it, the old man stood up and rushed out of the door without further word. For the first time Arya followed along, tired of being cooped up inside and left only to be patient as he’d put it.

When they got out onto the deck, the men were already hurling down ropes and crowding around the edge of the ship. Arya stood behind and let the crew do their job, while the old man pushed past each and everyone of one them and threw around orders left and right, he seemed like a natural at it Arya thought.

Gendry’s figure was easy to spot when he’d stepped out of the small boat, brushing himself off and was greeted by his men with a bundle of questions, all of which he didn’t answer fully but with small trivial reassurances and gestures.

She could hear his voice from where she stood, it was low and just as rasp as she remembered, if not more so than when he’d left that morning. He didn’t seem openly bothered by all the questions however as she’d expected him to. He spoke shortly with the old man, and she was sure she heard her name in the midst of their conversation before the two caught each other's eye. Gendry placed a hand onto the man's shoulder and nodded his head slightly in a gesture that seemed close to a; thank you, or a; see you around, and shot him an uneasy smile before he made his way over to her. His posture seemed to straighten with each step it took for him to reach her and his face seemed to shift slightly when she caught his eye, as if he was bracing himself to get it hit in the back of the head with a brick or something.

“I'm sorry about the sudden inconvenience, I hope you weren’t too startled by it.”

Arya could tell just how unsure and unnatural he was at this, everytime he spoke to her it was as if she was a new species of animal he couldn’t figure out how to approach.  She could only hope he hadn’t spoken the same way to her father, although she was sure Ned would only find it as enjoyable as he found it when Jon did it.

“I'm alright.” She said, unsure herself as to how she should bring about asking him why they'd left to begin with. Had it been anyone else she would’ve grabbed them by the collar and yelled at them until they spat it out at that point, but sadly he was not “anyone else” so that wasn’t an option anymore.

Gendry took a second to study her expression before turning his attention over his shoulder, “Davos, a word please?” The old man, whose name she finally got to know, looked over at Gendry from where he stood, addressing the last question from a worker before he walked back over to the two.

“What is it lad?”

“we need to send a bird, have we got one aboard?” Gendry asked with a hopeful brow, “We got two left, want me to prepare one?” Davos asked, ready to act out the request.

“Prepare both then, I'm sure she’d want to send word north right about now.” Gendry said after a brief pause.

Arya gazed up at him with wide eyes, surprised by the sudden act of kindness towards her.He didn’t look back at her however, but simply watched as Davos pulled a slight grimace of doubt.

“Are you sure? We’ll need to send word of our awaited arrival back home as well.”

“I'm sure we can manage without it this once-” Gendry said calmly before he let a yawn slip his lips and a rolled his shoulders slowly. “-That reminds me, got the papers I asked for?” He went on, ignoring Davos askance eyes he they held onto a long blink.

“Aye, of course, on your desk already.” Davos answered and got rewarded with a casual thumbs up from Gendry as he walked into cabin.

Arya stood behind and spoke up just as Davos was about to leave, having been left speechless during their exchange. “Did he mean that? Can I really send a letter to Winterfell?” She asked quietly but she was still heard. 

“He said so, and I’d doubt he’d say something he didn’t mean, but pick your words wisely m'lady, birds can’t carry novels around.” He said before turning his attention back to the lourd crew while Arya stood behind, a hesitant smile bubbling onto her lips before she walked back into the ship.

She’d knocked on the door lightly, forcing her smile off her lips in an instant, to not wanting him to get the wrong idea, whatever that might mean, and entered at his word.

She peeked her head in first, watching like a shy child as Gendry kept his head low over his desk, a hand firmly on his cheek and elbow digging into the desk as his hand worked slowly over a now distorted piece of paper. Arya made her way over silently, and she took a chance to glance at his work when she reached his desk. Poor handwriting and multiple errors covering the page he wrote on, it almost didn’t surprise her that he was so poor at writing, it seemed to fit his image quite well in fact.

He held the quill too straight in his still bandaged hand, making the ink flow out much quicker as well as making his lines rigged and shake. Arya could compare it to watching a toddler walk for the first time, shaky, uneven and overdramatic… and surprisingly adorable.

“Can I help you M’lady?” He breathed suddenly as he must have noticed her trying to make out his scribbles. She was quick to retract her head and take a step back, afraid she might have offended him by peeking.

“Sorry My lord, I didn’t mean to pry.” She excused, and reminded herself once more that he wasn’t her father or brothers and couldn’t act interested in his work regardless of what it was or how much she found it enjoyable to watch him struggle.

Gendry must have noticed the regret in her face, because he let out a short chuckle and leaned back in his seat, overlooking over at the short piece of paper with an amused look on his face.

“It looks horrible doesn’t it? I usually get Davos to proofread it afterwards, which usually ends up in him just simply writing it instead. It's kind of embarrassing considering  he learned to read and write much later and me as well, but I never had the hands to write such small words.” He chuckled slightly and Arya’s eyes widened as she took notice to his sudden change.

He wasn’t uptight or tense, and didn’t try to make his words into something they weren’t like he did out on the deck just a few moments ago. He seemed comfortable now, that or he simply didn’t care about sounding noble, nevertheless it caught her off guard as much as it’d done the first time she first noticed it. She assumed that it could be from the fact that his body was running on low energy and he wasn’t thinking straight, as much as that would contradict her other experience.

The amused huff at the end of his sentence reminded her of king Robert, and she really couldn’t help but take notice of just how much they looked alike now that she really payed attention, it was crystal clear that he was the king's son no matter how you looked at it, yet he acted nothing like him.

“Not a great study I presume?” Arya determined, unconsciously replying almost just as casually, but came to hold a short breath when he looked up at her with an almost shocked look on his face. It was as if he’d been splashed with cold water suddenly, and he cleared his throat in an uncomfortable manner a obvious shift taking place in his eyes again.

“No... I guess not, but I suffice, haven't gotten myself into trouble yet.”

“Yet?” She echoed and it seemed to have brought a guilty smirk on his lips as he averted her eyes

“Yes…Yet.”

It felt like the perfect time to ask Arya thought to herself, and the curiosity was starting biting at her from the inside as well. She wanted to claim that it was her right to know, which it was, she just wasn’t so sure that phrasing it as such would bring a positive reaction from him. Although by now she wasn’t so sure about but anything regarding him, he reacted in positive ways when she would be rude and was distant if she tried a softer approach.

She honestly didn’t know which was better, because she didn’t wish to be rude too often when she still didn’t know where the line was, but at the same time she found it hard to be considerate all the time as it wasn’t exactly something she’d grown up practicing. She must have made it obvious that she was holding something back because Gendry broke the silence she’d build with a sigh and put the letter away.

“You must have questions, Davos already told me you did, so go ahead…”

Arya lifted her brows at his words, not expecting things to change in her favor, and although she’d gotten permission, she still felt like she should be careful with her questions, not knowing where the thorns were underneath the sand, and how far out into the desert she wished to go.

She swallowed nervously but raised her chin affirmatively “Where are we headed?” was her first question and he responded it just as simply, “Storm’s End.”

“Why so suddenly?”

“It… it was the best thing to do.” He answered slowly and carefully, considering each word he'd said, but Arya could tell there was a longer explanation than that and it annoyed her that she would have to ask for a more elaborate answer.

“Davos said you spoke with my father before… Is that why?” She wanted to force him into simplifying it, and as he nodded slowly, she also figured that she would have to go further than that to get a precise answer as she found quiet quickly that yes or no answers also didn’t satisfy her.

“Did he… did um...”

Questions were overwhelming her as she tried to pick one to focus on, all with a million different ways of phrasing them and ways to voice it. She wanted to ask if it was har fault, that maybe her father had asked if of him, but at the same was it not like she wanted to sound arrogant and self-important. She was curious to know what they'd talked about and why it mattered, but she couldn’t pry the way she wanted to and risk offending him in a way that wouldn't end up being received well. She wanted to know why he hadn’t slept last night as well, but just like before it didn’t feel right to just ask that when she didn’t know him well enough.

“He asked me for a request, a promise rather actually, one that I'm not entirely sure I'm able to hold anymore either…-” Gendry rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, he seemed almost worried and guilty as he held the words in his mouth, refusing to meet her urgent gaze, eager to have him continue while at the same time being thankful he’d picked up on what she wanted to hear. He held a moment's pause to reflect on something before sighing deeply and shaking off the thought as he looked up at her ever so slightly behind a frown.

“- you should know, M’lady I-… I'm not… I'm not really what the king has made me out to be. I wasn’t born… a lord, I mean I wasn’t urgh-”

He tried to tie the words together but Arya could tell he was struggling to get his point across without being too straightforward with her, but at the same time it seemed like he was trying to explain it to himself as well.

“You are a bastard.”

It’d slipped off her tongue unconsciously and she’d wanted to retract her words at once when his face seemed to cringe at the words she’d spoken so casually. She could practically feel the thorn in her heel when he bit down into his bottom lip and inhaled sharply and turning his attention to the sea instead, it was clearly embarrassing for him to hear

It made sense to her, and it explained a lot actually, from his hands, to his constant change of mannerism, to his poor writing, his way of dressing and lack of dexterity. She knew of bastards, they were considered lowlifes and unwanted people in most people’s eyes, and they had no place to be or a place to call home, no house and no family. Her own brother was a bastard, so she understood the shame it brought whenever they were called out on their illegitimacy, and the weight of the sign that hung around their necks, one that they had to carry for the rest of their lives. Gendry cleared his throat and straightened his back shortly after and spoke up.

“I am, or… I was, I got legitimised little over a year ago after my uncles died, one from a sparring accident, another executed by the sept from laying with his wife’s brother. It’s the king’s policy that there must always be a Baratheon at Storm’s End, and when the queen refused to send the second prince he grabbed the closest of his bastards sons that he could find and gave them a name and a title... It just so happened to be me I guess.” He explained as he pushed the scowl off his brows and focused on the conversation.

Arya was still for a moment. She was hesitant to react when she wasn’t sure how his legitimation played into the sudden escape or his conversation with her father. She already knew she didn’t really care about him being a former bastard, at least not as much as Gendry might have considered her to.

Sure, it made him an odd lord to be married to, but it didn’t change that fact that he was a lord now and a son of the king. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel offended by being married to a former bastard or not, perhaps a lady of her status would feel a bit let down by being married to the crust of the family, but it wasn’t like she had a voice in the matter regardless of what she thought about it.

Assuming he would follow up on the previous issue she asked further questions, “That explains the sudden betrothal, but what does it have to do with my father and us leaving?”

Gendry scrunched his nose and scratched the side of his brow as he started to explain, the nervous tension starting to wash off him again. “It appears that king Robert had left out that detail in his letter when requesting the marriage. I'm not sure you’ve noticed M’lady, but I don't exactly look like any of his other children and your father, being the man that he is, obviously saw through it pretty quickly… but he strangely didn’t get very angry. Instead he became interested in my heritage, not that there was much I could tell him, I only knew of my mother… so I told him what little I could remember and that was it. I didn’t speak with him much afterwards, only the times he came and asked about the other bastards’ whereabouts, not that I know of course-.” Gendry explained in a huff as he tried to set things straight.

“- I still haven’t figure out your fathers real reasons, but ever since I’ve told him of my mother he’s been speaking with the other advisors around the Keep, people that aren’t exactly known for their consistency per se.”

Arya frowned deeply as she noticed where the conversation was headed, “Are you calling my father a traitor?”

The sudden accusation startled Gendry as his head shot back her, “Oh no, he didn’t strike me as the person that would take it that far, I’ve spoken with him enough times to know that much M’lady. I'm saying that I don’t think he knows the beehive he’s poking his stick into, the people here aren’t the same as everywhere else, they tend to gamble with higher stakes. Trust me I’ve seen more than enough men get stabbed in the back to know how it all works here.”

Arya had a hard time figuring out where Gendry wanted to take their conversation, he seemed to beat around the bush a bit too much for her liking. She couldn’t figure out why it mattered to her father that he was a former bastard, neither how it had anything to do with them needing to escape King’s Landing.

“So then… what is it my father wants?” She asked, and Gendry shook his head lightly, “Like I said I’m not sure, but… “ he seemed to get lost in thought as he rolled his neck slightly and closed his eyes, Arya wasn’t as patient as she liked to think she was, and she didn't like it when people dragged things out for too much even if it was her husband speaking and she was supposed be considerate and submissive.

“But what? Davos told me you spoke with my father and that's when you asked him to get me, you must’ve known what it was he wanted or at the very least-”

“It wasn’t just your father that made me leave…  someone else, I don't know who, but they were tailing him-” He interrupted her through a tight jaw as he scuffed, his brows frowning at her, likely starting to get annoyed at her persistency to get answers to questions he didn’t really have.

He was stern, but not yet angry, although it was enough to make her halt in her words and let herself get stopped. Usually she would’ve snapped back at people that interrupted her like that, no matter the person, but now wasn’t the time to start kicking up sand into her husband's eyes, not when he so clearly had the upper hand.

“-I received word last night, from Roberts master of coin lord Baelish, one of the advisors your father has been in contact with quiet often lately. He asked me to bring a hundred of my men to the sept tomorrow for the ceremony, at request of lord Stark. Now forgive me M’lady but why would an honorable man such as your father need a hundred of my men for a wedding?” It almost sounded rhetorical to her as she as well couldn’t think of a reason Ned would even need _any_ men at her sister's wedding outside of his own.

“He wouldn’t.” She answered back her tone hardening as she felt a knot in her stomach tightened at the thought of her father pulling anything that could ruin Sansa’s day, but even more so that he even thought about pulling something to begin with.

Gendry relaxed and leaned back in his chair with nod before continuing, “He wouldn’t. I’d thought about it for the majority of the night last night, and while I haven’t been a lord my whole life, I know enough to know what a man wants when he asks for men, especially men like lord Baelish. I had my men prepare the ships, just as a precaution to begin with, however, when I saw lord Stark this morning… It wasn’t the face of a man headed to ruin see his eldest daughter’s wedding let’s put it like that.” He sighed.

Arya was baffled as she listened, she knew her father better than anyone else in the seven kingdoms, she knew he would never even begin to consider pulling something at Sansa’s wedding or go back on a promise to the king. Which lead only one option open.

“So then… If my father isn’t planning on attacking the sept, why would lord Baelish then?” Gendry shrugged heavily, “I don't know, but I won't take the risk to figure it out, not with people like lord Baelish involved. He known to never dirty his own hands despite having so much trash around him.”

“What does that mean?” Arya grimaced, having never heard of such an odd saying, and Gendry deadpanned at her question.

“It means he’s good at manipulating other to clean up for him.”

“Then why are we running away if my father could be in danger?”

“Because running away is the best thing to do. If I stayed my men would need to go, since I don't have the power to refuse a request from one of the king’s advisors, meaning I’ll risk inserting myself into something that could hurt my house as well as yours M’lady. By running away and removing myself from the picture entirely, he won't get to use my men or the connection I have to lord Stark against me, he won’t be able to manipulate me to clean up after this dirty work.”

“Won't he just ask for someone else’s men?” Arya asked baffled that a small situation could blow up so quickly, but Gendry shook his head.

“If he had the means to do so he would’ve done it to begin with… I don't know his goal, but he’s a man who thrives from the conflict of others. If he uses my men to attack lord Stark that’ll make me responsible and I’ll be the man who betrays him, not lord Baelish… it would also automatically pin you against your family as well… figuratively I mean.”

Taken aback, Arya let out a laughable huff as she walked over and sat down at the edge of the bed to the side of them. There was nothing amusing about the situation, she’d simply found it unbelievable that she was being forced away, and only now had it hit her that she wasn’t going to see them again.

Everything was still a bit blurry in her head, but she was sure she could find it in her to understand in due time. Gendry had been right, it all seemed too weird that her father would try and stop the wedding simply because he found out that Gendry had been a bastard, it didn’t make sense, but knowing her father it probably wasn't where the problem laid.

It was something else entirely, it had to be, otherwise she would really have to consider her father a foolish man. She could do nothing but hope that the two of them were safe and that Gendry had been wrong in his speculations, and the men wouldn’t have been used for what he assumed. The two of them had gotten quiet, Gendry going back to overview the papers Davos had managed to take with them and Arya turning thoughts in her head until it became too much.

“So, what will happen when they figure out that we ran away?” She asked pushing the darkening thoughts to the side for now.

“I write a letter to the king...lying I guess.” Gendry shrugged.

 Arya couldn’t hide the smirk that rose to her lips as she folded her legs over her knee.“Thought you said you wanted to avoid such situations.”

“Yes well... stay in around other lying cunts for too long and you’ll eventually end up in those situations.” Gendry answered back just as amused as he flipped passed page and began reading slowly.

“What’ll be your excuse then?” She asked curiously.

“I'm all ears for any ideas you should have M’lady. I do recall you saying it was one of your strong suits after all.” He glanced up at her with a teasing undertone, and Arya wiggled her nose lightly as she thought about it before shrugging.

“Well since you can’t include the lords from the other houses, since they are all pretty much in King’s Landing anyway, you could just go with the whole, trouble in paradise-type thing.” She noticed his impressed nod as she spoke, and it sent an odd rush through her stomach as she smiled to herself.

“And what’ll that be?”

“Well it can't be a minor problem, or else you’ll be caught, but it can’t be too major as well so that the king would feel the need to be involved… A ship wreckage might- no that's too much… A murder perhaps, on castle grounds.” She suggested.

“A murder?” He echoed a bit doubtful.

“Yes... You’re the only Baratheon, you have no close family that can make the judgement in your place, so you'll obviously need to go back as quickly as possible.” she nodded, happy with her plan.

“It’s murder, isn’t the sentence already set then? Why would it need me to oversee it?” He asked back, and Arya blinked slowly, he was right it was a bit obvious perhaps.

“Accused murder then, that way no decisions can be made without you…" She corrected herself as she went on with her schemes to trick the king. Gendry yawned as he listened to her, keeping himself awake was seemingly starting to turn harder as the ship’s gentle rocking swayed him in his seat and Arya noticed how his blinks started to become increasingly slower and lasted longer than before. She completely forgotten he hadn’t slept for nearly two days.

She let out a gentle sigh before standing up in her seat and walked over, “Why don’t I take care of the lying, you need to rest my lord.”

Gendry forced an eye open and rubbed the side of his face with a flat palm against his cheek, “I couldn’t ask that of you, I’ll be alright I just need to um…” He trailed off another yawn made its way up his throat, and Arya finally let her eyes roll in her head for a second before forcing down a need to pull him up the chair and throw him aside.

“Oh please, with your poor writing and that hand it’ll take too long anyways, and we don't have time for Davos to sit down and rewrite it afterwards. It’s my story is it not, so don't you find it better that I write it? Besides, I have a letter of my own I need to write remember?” She spoke up softly as she began to gather the mess of papers on his desk into one bundle, not taking no for an answer

In a deep sigh Gendry rubbed his nose bridge and squeezed his eyes shut before blinking up at her, “Are you sure M’lady?” He asked, tempted to take her up on her offer, and she nodded plainly.

“Of course I am, so go rest, I’ll take care of it.” She gestured behind her and took a step back as he quietly took her up on her offer, and huffed down onto the puffy bed like a bear, arms spread over his head and feet still hanging over the edge, his breath turning soft almost instantly. Arya blinked at the sight in front of her, and she hid the amusement it brought her as she sat down in his chair pushing it closer to the desk, working as quietly as she could as Gendry’s loud soft breaths melted together with the creaking of the ships and the waves outside.

\--

She finished up the letter to the king rather quickly, making it as vague as she could without it sounding too insincere and made up. She took to working on her own message to Winterfell afterwards, but as she dipped the quill in the dark ink her mind suddenly went blank. When she’d gotten the offer to write to her family, she could think of a thousand things to say, express and explain. When Davos had told her not to make it too long she suddenly found it burdensome to have to pick only the utmost important things to write about, but had some in mind.

Yet as she sat there now, she could think of nothing, not her father, not her sister, not her wedding, nor her current situation seemed right to write about. She couldn’t tell her mother about all the stress she was going through and she suddenly wouldn’t find it in her to lie to her family about it either.

She could tell them about Gendry, but what was there even worth telling, he was still uncharted territory, even for her. Arya considered telling them about father, but since she didn’t even know the full story herself she couldn’t worry her mother with unsure speculations. She wanted to tell her how dreadful King’s Landing had been, but that wasn’t exactly news to their mother either, she’d made it clear to her how much she hated it before she’d even seen it. She could tell her about Sansa and hers fight, but Arya was sure she would be the once to receive a scolding then.

She spent around an hour before she settled on something and rolled it up tightly and sealed it shut, borrowing the Baratheon seal before making her way out of the room with both letters in her hand.

Arya pushed open the door to the deck of the ship, a large gust of wind blowing through her hair as she walked out. She looked up to see the giant sails bending with the wind as it pushed the ship through the waters, they were far out by now, and King’s Landing was nowhere in sight, only the coast far off in the distance assured them of their position out on the open waters.

The men had taken to rest finally, each one of them taking in the sea breeze in their own way. Most men were resting their head up against the cargo or the masts of the ship, others were chatting loudly in groups, exchanging stories and jokes over a cup of whatever beverages they could find. The youngest men had gotten the job of cleaning the deck, or shining their elder’s boots as they listened along to the stories with eager ears.

Arya looked up in search of Davos and walked up a flight of stairs where she saw him and a couple of ship’s mates discussing their course and other preparations. Once again Arya could walk up rather unnoticed before Davos even noticed her out of the corner of his eye and waved off the other men to give her his attention.

“M’lady, got your peace of mind then I hope?” He said lightly.

“You could say that… There are still things that doesn’t make sense to me though.” She mumbled as she took a seat on the bench by the maps across from Davos who nodded his head.

“Yes, it is complicated affairs, but I trust the lad is making the best decision for us all M’lady.”

She rose a curious brow, “So you knew after all, about the men?”

“Aye, of course I did, I'm his advisor how could I not know? I might not know the full story per se, but it’s not needed when it involves sea slugs such as lord Baelish, the lad knows better than to play the games of lords and ladies, even if it makes him look like a coward.” Davos explained with a displeased look on his face as he spoke about the king’s advisor.

Arya herself was starting to feel unnerved as well whenever they spoke his name, and she hoped her father knew about him as well enough to know he was making a mistake, thought it didn’t sound like he did. Arya found it hard to blame Gendry for his choices, if it really was as he said then Davos might be right, it was the best decision he could’ve made, but it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t wish to go yet and regretted not getting to tell him herself that they were going.

“I just don’t understand why my father wouldn’t have told me about this, I don't see a reason for any of this to happen. It couldn’t be Gendry that’s the problem, my father doesn’t care about such things, and if he did this marriage would’ve never taken place, so it must be something else.” She said, trying to piece it together, but Davos wasn’t much help as he simply shrugged it off.

“Don't strain yourself with such matters M’lady, your father is a great man, I'm sure he knows what he’s doing and it’s probably nothing, but we can’t be in the middle of it in case it isn’t… Where's the lad now?” He changed the topic seeing as Arya was frowning deeper and deeper and was staring down at the maps in front of them as if they held the answers she sought.

“Resting, he could barely keep his eyes open by the time he was finished explaining himself.” She explained dryly and folded her hands in front of her, a slight scowl still on her face as her father still lingered in the back of her mind

“Did he at least finish the letter he was going to send?” Davos asked, taking a gulp of his wine as he gave half of his attention to the whispers of his ship mates.

“I finished it, couldn’t wait around for him to struggle his way through the words.”

 “Is it any good?”

“It’ll get the job done yes.”

“Wonderful, then let’s get the birdy flying before it’s too late.” Davos smacked the table before pushing himself up and walking over to two brown hawks sitting blank minded in a wooden cag. he picked up one of them and carried it back to table and placed it in front of a curious Arya. Up north they used ravens or simply had people to carry their messages, since the cold typically kept normal birds away from the lands.

The hawk was large in comparison to a raven and sat completely still and eyed her with its large yellow eyes as Davos grabbed the small leather holster around it’s legs and took it out. Arya handed him the first letter which he placed in the cylinder and closed it off before tying it back onto the bird.

“And what of your own M’lady?”

“Here.” She said pulling out the other roll of paper, which Davos took and went back to the other bird and did the same thing, letting the first bird out of its cage and pulled out a whistle, which he blew into and watched bird take off. He did the same thing to the other bird, only blowing into another whistle with a higher frequency before the bird took off.

Arya walked over and watched in awe as the two birds soared over the waters, “Will it make it up there?” she asked with a quiet voice.

“There isn’t a place in all of Westeros these birds can’t reach. Winterfell isn’t an exception, but you should expect it to take some time for a reply.” Davos said with a satisfied look on his face as he put down the giant glove he’d held the birds with.

“That's alright… I don't expect much of a reply anyways.” She breathed as she walked back to the table and overlooked the maps with an observative eye.

“How long will we be sailing?” She asked.

“Expect it to take little over a week if everything goes smoothly M’lady.” Davos said and Arya cursed inwards, and for the first time she wished she was more of a lady  thaso that she could stand to sit around and stare into a wall for hours on end.

“Mind if I stay up here with you then? I won't be in your way, you have my word.” She asked lightly, with a glimpse of hope in her eyes as she noticed the men in the back trying to catch Davos attention once again, and he nodded firmly.

 “I’d be honored M’lady.”

\--

Over two weeks passed before they saw sight of familiar land again, Arya had spent most of her time around Davos, listening to their conversations as she sat at the edge of the bench looking over the waters. It was a familiar feeling, sitting and overhearing their conversations, many of which she didn’t give her input on, not feeling she had a say in the matter.

She had taken her time with adjusting to the new people around her and their way of being, they were more straightforward than the people on King’s Landing, but they were distant when it came to approaching her, and barely looked her in the eyes when they came with her food. She was the odd one the entirety of the trip, but it wasn’t like she didn’t understand why. Still, it was hard not to feel lonely at times, especially when she looked to the others around her.

Gendry and Davos got along with the crew and soldiers like normal people, and spoke on equal terms with nearly everyone, and she understood now that neither of them seemed to acknowledge their position as higher than anyone else and hence didn’t act like it either.

Arya wished she could be treated the same way, but she found it hard to even engage in their conversations, being the only woman and clearly being treated as one. She was their lord’s lady so she was already off limits to even as much as look at, and it didn’t help that she was also a stranger to them, and was being kept at a distance to because of it.

In the evenings when everybody else was chatting loudly around her, she would sit in the back and practice her knots with the silk ropes she’d pulled from her sleeves. She hadn’t done it in a while but she still remembered most of them, and she even took to studying the knots around the ships and eventually got the hang of them as well, even though they didn’t look the same when recreated in silk.

On their trip she also learned just how much time men could spend on sleeping, some more than others obviously. Gendry as well she would find more than often dozing off in the shade instead of preparing for the arrival. It all seemed like he’d brushed off the effect King’s Landing had on him, and he became more comfortable as they got further and further south.

It wasn’t like she judged him, he could do as he pleased, and she found that she enjoyed seeing him so relaxed for once. He was rarely in the lord’s cabin, he’d mentioned it was because he enjoyed being outside with the others, but Arya figured it was more or less just the excuse he used so she could sleep alone, which she didn’t mind, but she also knew that it wasn't going to be acceptable for much longer.

She was sitting at the front of the ship on top of a chest filled with whatever, her head leaning against her own arm as she held onto a shroud, her eyes closed as she let the cool air brush its way through her hair and flushing her cheeks. The air around them was finally turning colder, and she realized just how much she’d missed it’s nibble on her skin as it sent shivers over her spine.

Getting away from the warm air was the best thing about their trip to Storm’s End, and she enjoyed every calm second she got to breathe in the chilling air. She had noticed that the air here was moister than in the north, but it was something she was willing to adapt to as long as it didn’t mean she wouldn’t be getting a heatstroke from standing in the shade.

A yell from above her head broke her peace and quiet, announcing the at the sight of land. She blinked her eyes open, and spotted the giant cliff that was the edge of the Stormlands as the sea flowed into a giant opening which she recalled being called Shipbreakers Bay on the maps she’d seen. The sky around them was spotted with grey clouds and she saw hordes of wild birds crowding around the barren cliffs and lands surrounding them. It was an unfamiliar sight to her, one on a scale enough to send her back into her reality, leaning deeper into her arm she let her chin rest firmly against her elbow with a soft exhale through her nose as she dryly greeted her new home in her head.

It was a couple of hours before she could catch sight of a giant black castle towering over the sea below it. it was as if it was built into the cliff side, a large curtain wall reaching around the giant towers inside of it that made the castle. Even from afar Arya could tell its walls were thick and sturdy as rooms stuck out further down the cliff side underneath the wall.

It looked massive, surely much larger than Winterfell from what she could gather, yellow banners hanging from its walls and towers as well as weapons that reminded her of catapults on the battlements. The men standing guard looked like insects from the ship as fires were lit around the walls as the sun lowered behind it. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn’t turn to see who it was before Davos’ voice spoke up next to her.

“Storm’s End, the unbroken keep of the Stormlands, built by Bran the builder to protect Durran from the wrath of the gods, it has never fallen and will never fall so long as man rules the lands.” He said proudly as he folded his arms tightly over his chest and tugged in his coat due to the heavy gust of wind.

“Isn’t that what they say about every castle in the Seven Kingdoms? The same was said about Harrenhal, look at it now, scrabs, a ravens pickings.” Arya mumbled, not in the mood to be humbled by a castles history.

“I'm sure they do, but in our case it’s the truth, no castle before it has been able to withhold the storms of the gods, and it withheld a year’s siege under Robert's Rebellion, if that doesn’t prove a point, I don't know what does M’lady.” Davos chucked at her side as he continued to brag as if it had been his own succession. Arya nodded slowly accepting his judgement on the matter and rolled her shoulders as she picked herself up.

“How long until we dock?” She asked.

“We’ll reach land by sunset M’lady, so it won't be long now.” He replied and Arya nodded before heading off, saying she would need to prepare herself.

She took to brushing her hair thoroughly and tied it in the back before she washed off the salt in her skin and tied her sleeves again, trying her best to look presentable once more, even if it was a dreadful affair. At the time of their arrival noise started to pick up again, the men yelling orders at each other and the ship screeching as it was being worked, its sails being dropped and pushed against the docks.

Arya exited the room as soon as she felt the ship go still and could no longer see the water rushing past them in the window. She was met with the dark docks lit up by the late afternoon sun as it started to set behind the mountain that was Storm’s End. Its walls now fully lit up and closer than ever, its magnificent dark figure almost an overwhelming sight to Arya. She looked around as the crew started to unload the ship, crates, barrels and sacks carried off with ropes and manpower, all hurrying to get off the boat and onto land.

Gendry and Davos were already on dock when she got out, greeting the people who’d arrived to welcome them. Arya lingered behind a moment longer before she walked off as well, the crew making way for her to cross the planks, and she took her time adjusted to the sudden firm ground she stepped onto, her knees swaying while she struggled to take a step forward without feeling like she would fall.

She was lucky no one had noticed it right away, so she took refuge against a torch lit pole and held onto it as she adapted to the new footing, feeling strangely dizzy as well when she looked onto her feet, and saw the water rush between the planks but not moving her. It was her first time feeling truly sickened by the effects of water, and her hands clammed it’s hold around the wood to balance herself further.

She cursed as he heard her name being called out, not feeling ready to walk just yet, and certainly not engage in conversation. Her lack of response didn’t go unnoticed since she was approached by a slightly concerned Gendry.

 “M’lady is everything alright?” He asked, slanting his head slightly to get a better look at her face as she held back a nauseous gag in her throat.

“I'm…-” She wasn’t sure what to say, she too embarrassed to say that she was feeling like shit and not wanting to be of inconvenience wither. “-I'm fine.” She mumbled quietly as a sour taste brought itself up on her tongue. He didn’t reply before turning his head and asking for his horse, and walked away from her only to return a moment later.

“Here.” He spoke up, Arya groaning quietly as she looked up and saw the large black steed in the eyes before looking over at the lord holding the reins.

“Why the horse my lord?” She asked pulling a grimace, to which he gestured down to her with a knowing eye.

“You still got sea legs, it’ll take some time to adjust if you’re not used to it, sitting on the back of a horse tends to help due to its swaying, it’ll help you feel less sick.”

Arya narrowed her eyes at him, she’d never heard of the term nor the presumptive cure for it, but she wasn’t exactly in her right mind to refuse his help if that was what he was offering, nor did she have the energy to argue with him.

he loosened her gib on the pole and took a staggered step toward the giant horse, running her hands along its neck for support until she reached the saddle and suddenly wanted to turn around to slap him for pulling such a joke on her as she remembered her dress, it would be impossible mount the creature wearing something so obnoxious and heavy. She was about to open her mouth and snap at him, when she felt two hands grabbing her firmly around her waist and turn her around, before lifting her up like a toddler and placing her securely on the horse.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stiffened in her seat and stared wide eyed down at Gendry as he took her right foot and placed in into the stirrup and patted down the horse’s neck as a way of thanking it for its cooperation. He looked up at her briefly, not reacting to her obvious bewilderment, before he took to the rains once again and started pulling the horse with him, leaving Arya to figure out the situation for herself.

He took her back to the people who’d observed the situation from afar, and continued on with his conversation as if nothing had happened, Arya no longer knowing if it was the horse or the blood rushing up to her head that was the reason for the clearing of her mind and removing the nausea.

It didn’t take long before she was getting dragged away again as they made their way up to the castle, leaving behind the ships and the rushing waters that slammed up against the cliffside. she didn’t follow any of the conversations happening around her, but simply stared out into uphill road they were following, trying to force herself into a distraction as an odd sensation seemed to buzz through her that refused to leave for the remaining of the night.

The gates opened up as they approached them leading them into a giant courtyard, already lit up by multiple blazers and torches hanging around the grounds. There were barely any people around except for the few workers who were working extra shifts that day.

“Here we are M’lady, wish for a hand to get down?” Gendry asked up at her as he halted the horse, and quite instantly Arya’s eyes went to ground and contemplated whether or not it was worth the risk of falling into the mud if it meant she could avoid him touching her again like that.

She was used to riding horses, and in any normal circumstances she wouldn’t have needed a hand with anything regarding a horse, but if she knew anything it was that jumping off a horse in a dress wasn’t a good idea.

So she unraveled her foot on the stirrup before she nodded and held out her hand precariously while preparing to jump down. He’d grabbed her hand after a second of studying her focused expression, clearly not having meant an actual hand, but didn’t protest has she grabbed the skirt of her dress and slid off immediately letting go of him when her feet had touched the dirt.

“Thank you.” She said quickly, wiping off her hand in her skirt before looking around for something she could comment on to break up the conversation.

Gendry cleared his throat about a second later and spoke up, “You must be tired M’lady, I have some things I need to catch up on, I’ll have someone show you to your room and get you comfortable.” She barely got to answer before a lady came and lead her away, Gendry wasting little to no time as he rushed off to somewhere.

The small lady that lead her through the dark halls of the castle, saying close to nothing to Arya as she walked about, taking each step as if she’d walked it hundred times, having to pause several times to wait for Arya who was distracted with pretty much everything around her as she mapped out the place. It was important for her to start early, if she was going to adjust to her presumably new home, she would need to take it in as quickly as possible.

She was led through several side doors, passing through what seemed to be the main hall, and up a tall flight of circular stairs before they came up into an open corridor with only three double doors.

They entered the first on the right, which was obviously the lords chambers, given away by the giant feathery bed covered in furs and blankets of the highest quality. A broad fireplace in the opposite side of the room warmed up the room and spread its light across the stone floor, a desk stood nearby being the only messy place in the room as it was forbidden for servants to touch a lord’s desk. The room was long enough for two tall and thin windows to make slits of evening sun shine into the room, and a pair of giant antlers hang between them like a crown.

Arya stood still and watched the room quietly, not noticing the maid shutting the door behind her and leaving her to fend for herself. She felt herself getting drowsy and she took in the room, It was as if a piece of home had followed her from Winterfell while still remaining foreign.

She felt comfortable at the sight of the furs on the bed, and the sound of the breaking wood again, but it still lacked the icy howling from outside and the wolves that had been replaced with stags still made her stomach turn a bit. Yet even if it had its differences, Arya couldn’t help but let her shoulder hang loosely and she breathed the smell of wood and dust, even if a smell of sweat and something unfamiliar blended in with it.

She wasted no time stripping herself of her dress and washing her arms and face clean once more before curling under the furs burying her head as deeply as they would allow her and breathed in the unfamiliar smell until she got used to it, and drifted off not listening to anything but herself and the deep rumble that made it its way up through the castle as the waves hammered into its side below her.

She’d already gotten used to the sounds of waves being her new lullaby, having to sleep in a constantly rocking ship filled with snoring men made her think that she could sleep through the worst of whatever storms these said gods would throw at the castle, so long as she could curl under a ton of furs it didn’t matter where she was she believed.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this took longer to write than I thought it would take me but sadly I'm easily distracted and fell into quite a few youtube holes while writing this. It took me the whole night finish but I damn well did it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this, and it might be a while longer until the next one, since I have an exam comming up I should really focus on. Please feel free to comment what you thought about this one since I love reading them and it inspires me a lot and helps me want to continue the story!
> 
> (edit: updated 31-01-20)


	5. Chapter 5

For once Arya woke up by herself, no nightmares or servants breaking down her door to force feed her. She opened her eyes to see the same grey furs she’d melted into, and an warmth around her so comfortable she wished she could fall into an endless sleep. She groaned as she shifted her head out from under the covers, peaking out into the dimly lit room as the sun hid behind the clouds and the fire had gone out a while into the night. It almost didn’t seem right to wake up when she couldn’t even tell what time it was, and while sleep still tugged in her lids, she realised that if it really was late into the day she shouldn’t stay there.

She sat up onto her knees and shivered from the cold when the covers slid from her shoulders, and proceeded to stretch her arms above her head, combined with a heavy and loud yawn that brought tears to her eyes. She wiggled her hips while turning her upper body a couple of times, loosening up her shoulders in an attempt to wake herself, smacking her lips to gain some moisture.

She pulled her feet over the edge of the bed and hesitantly let them fall onto the ice cold stone floor, before dragging her legs towards the bowl of clean water standing by the dresser. She took a deep breath before scoop up a handful of it and splashed herself, the chill of the water slapping her in her face and finally allowed her eyes to open fully. She hissed as she quickly dried herself off and looked over to the bed with a sorrowful gaze, contemplating if it had been worth it or if she should just hide away for the rest of the day. She looked over at where she’d left her dress on the floor, scowling at it in disgust as she refused to wear it despite not having anything else. She opened up the dresser with great interest, and saw nothing but Gendry’s clothing inside. Curiously she pulled out a dark shirt, all too big for her she concluded after having measured it in the mirror before squinting at it in irritation.

It was still just barely covering what it should, but her white garment reached over her knees and wasn’t see-through. Sighing she pulled it over her head, rolling up the sleeves to fit her, and tied up the strings to close around her neck after brushing her hair aside. It was a silly look, she realised that, but one she couldn’t help but still find comfortable, and it wasn’t like it was her fault they had given her nothing else. Not that she complained, she enjoyed not needing to press herself into a dress like a sausage and look like she was going to a feast every day. She put on her boots and ran her fingers through her hair a couple of times before exiting the room. She was glad she’d spend her time looking around when the lady showed her up to the chamber last night, since she realised as she was walking around the still quiet castle that it was quite easy to get lost in the swirling halls and staircases.

She wandered around, quietly tiptoeing through the halls as she heard soft snoring and breathing through the doors when passing by. It was a comforting sound to her ears, and her body begged her to crawl back into bed again but just the thought of someone sleeping in. In a few more turns she’d reached the grounds by the front gate, peeking her head around the corner to make sure she was alone she made her way out, breathing in the cold morning dew that hung in the air as the chills that ran up her skirt woke her up. She heard the noise of her target just around a corner, and like a mouse she sneaked her way over the dirt, unnoticed by the tried guards on the walls, as they were preparing for a shift change at the first sight of morning sun. 

The light huff of a horse brought a smile on her face as she sneaked over to the black stallions stable, greeting it with a light brush over it's muzzle with the back of her hand. It was soft as silk and warm to the touch and it huffed out hot breaths of air in responce to her touch. Arya stood and picked at it’s bangs for a moment, appreciating the tall animal for a quiet second. As she continued to run her hand over it’s back she noticed it’s sweat and trembling muscles, it was freshly ritten, and her eye’s shot up at the sound of a deep clearing of a throat.

Flinching she looked up at Gendry who was standing a few steps away from her, a bucket of water in his hands and a cloth whiped over his shoulder. He was wearing the same clothing from yesterday, only it had lost its cleanliness by then and had turned him into the more familiar sight with the dirt patches splashed over the leathers and his face. His cheeks carried the same red flush from the cold as hers did, although his tanned skin was better at hiding it than her pale one was. “M’lady?” He asked, stepping closer to the stable and placing down the heavy looking bucket in front of the horse, which immediately bent down and started practically inhaling the water.

Arya stood frozen in her spot, still in shock from his sudden appearance. She was quick to let her hand peel off the horse and wiped in the borrowed shirt as she bit down on her lips inconspicuously. “My lord.” she greeted back after a seconds delay, catching his gaze in hers as he straightened back up. “It’s quite early still… Can I help you with something?” he spoke up slightly puzzled as he eyed her up and down.

“No. I mean... I was just having a look around, since I couldn’t sleep when I noticed… your horse.” She finished folding her fingers in front of her, as she tried to make up an excuse on the spot, anything that just didn’t make her look like the creep. Gendry seemed to a caught on pretty quickly, and instead of pestering her with further questions he just played along, “I see, is your bed not to your liking M’lady?” He asked as he crossed over to the opposite side of the horse and started to rub it down with the cloth. Arya whined in her head, if only that had been the case she thought as she let her hand stroke the black coat of the horse once more when he wasn't looking. 

“On the contrary actually...I couldn’t tell the time, it gets light early down here, thought I’d overslept.” She explained running her fingers over a patch of dirt that hung in its rough coat. “Overslept? For what occasion?” Gendry asked gruffly with a hint of amusement as he continued his way further down the horse. “No orraction, just used to being woken up really early is all.” “I'm sure you would’ve been had anyone been awake yet, it barely day break after all. Not to say Sunday, people tend to sleep in on Sundays around here.” Gendry said simply, groaning as he stood up from having brushed the legs clean.

“What about yourself then? Why have you woken up so early?” Arya asked, curious since she saw nothing of him after he’d sent her away with the servant. Gendry paused for a moment, before sighing, “I just arrived from the docks, had to help unloading and counting the resources and make sure everything was in order and such… Not to say getting briefed to no end about the situations from when I was away. I just finished, so I'm afraid I haven’t had the pleasure to rest just yet.” He explained simply as he started pouring the horses grain into its trough. Arya couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at him in disbelief, her lips parting slowly as she attempted to form a proper response to the maddening words that came out of his mouth.

“You stayed up all night helping unload a ship? Why not let your men take care of that?” Arya asked slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression as he went behind the giant horse once more. “It’s my stuff, I should carry it myself, simple as that. Besides, it’s more comforting to get a job done myself than wait around for an officer to pass on the work of another man.” Gendry spoke, his figure appearing from behind the horse and onto her side, his arms still working hard as he whiped the horse down, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and revealing a veiny arm as it’s turned tens from his firm grip.

It stirred in Arya stomach once again as she had to turn her whole body away from him to avoid staring. Her sides recalling the sensation from last night, making her insides swirl to her own discomfort. She walked further away from him, and up to the head of the horse, focusing on it’s eating instead. “I see, your workers must appreciate you a lot then if their lord is willing to help them lessen their workload.” Her words earned her a deep chuckle from Gendry, “Don't be mistaken, it’s not something I go around and do every day, like I said, I just carry my own. Besides, I thought you might have appreciated not having me around for a while.” She heard his voice come closer and froze in her spot when his arm reached over her shoulder and grabbed the brush hanging on the wall, his warm skin just barely scraping her cheek lightly before he retracted it and began brushing out the dirt in the horses coat.

Arya had to mentally gut herself and mouth a curse as the feeling continued to linger on her cheek. She rubbed it vigorously before looking over her shoulder, glaring at him from the corner of her eye, “Not having you around me doesn’t mean you can’t get a nights sleep.” She argued calmly, and the line that formed on his lips didn’t go unnoticed, “Don't know if you’ve noticed M’lady, but my bed has been occupied as of late.”

A thick lump formed in Arya’s throat, one of which was harder to swallow than she'd anticipated. It seemed she’d forgotten they were married, now that literally everyone at court in the Red Keep wasn’t around to continuously remind her. Not having the need to mention it to herself, seemed to have clouded the fact that she hadn’t just magically ended up in Storm’s End and Gendry wasn’t just a lord she just happened to know. She turned a bit bitter, for once in a while had she actually forgotten about her duty to her family, she hadn’t considered that Gendry was actually doing her a favor by staying away. “Right…-” She mumbled before clearing her throat quickly, “- Well the occupier has left now, so if you’d like-”

“Can't do that I'm afraid, after I'm done here I’ll need to head off and find Ser Davos and give him the reports, he’s ship master around here.” Gendry interrupted blankly and held back an incoming yawn, by clenching his jaw.

“Shouldn’t you rest my lord?” She questioned, she knew by now that he was a hard worker, but surely he must have the power to deny some of his duties to get some rest. To her confusion however, Gendry shook his head, “Don’t want the trouble of letting the workload pile up. I slept plenty on the boat, so I’ll be alright M’lady… On another topic, and I'm just curious, but is there a particular reason why you have stolen my clothes?” Gendry asked, as he finished up his work and looked her direction, and Arya scuffed lightly under her breath as she pulled down on the shirt, sudden overly conscious about the length of it. She was sure it covered her enough, it just didn’t feel like it anymore, she felt bare and thankful for the size of the horse suddenly as Gendry went back to the otherside of the stallion once again.

“I had nothing else, and my dress… it was dirty.” She made a quick excuse, not sure how he’d react to her just simply hating wearing one, “Ah. Right, I’ll have someone bring you something.” Gendry said, and caught the deep and exhausted sigh escaping Arya’s lips as she cursed the thought of wearing those torture devices. “Say, how do you fancy horse riding M'lady?” He sudden spoke up, and Arya frowned suspiciously at his words, “I'm experienced…  Why do you ask my lord?”

Gendry appeared in front of the horse, his hands rubbing it's forehead with rough strokes as he shot her a knowing grin, “I'm afraid I’ll be quite busy today, and Coal here needs quite the exercise you see, but I don't think I’ll have the time and there are few in this castle that can handle this guy’s power. I know I shouldn’t ask a fine and delicate lady such as yourself M’lady, but I’d greatly appreciate it if I could leave him in your experienced hands for the day… if you are up for it of course.” He was clearly teasing her, since his smile only seemed widened with the sight of her mouth partening and her chin dropping slightly in disbelief.

Arya strangely couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, nor why he was asking this of her in the first place. It seemed strangely generous of him, too generous in fact, but she wasn’t about to take the chance and let the opportunity slip in case her instinct was lying to her. “I’m afraid It’ll ruin my gown my lord.” She said, playing further into his little game and teasing him in the same voice as he had done, straightening her back and folding her arms as she took a courageous step forward. Staring up into his clear blue eyes, trying to find the bluff hidden somewhere in them, but she was met with nothing but a cloud of amusement and sincerity.

“I’m sure the proper leathers can be arranged…anything else?” He said lightly, staring back at her with the same intensity as she had offered, “Coal, is there something I should know about him?” “Other than the fact that he’s probably the most stubborn horse in all of the Stormlands? Don't believe so, but I think you’ll find him to your liking… ah, and if you need help to get up on him, I'm sure you can find a bucket some place around here.” He teased, pulling away from her cold stare and folding his arms, meanwhile Arya gritted her teeth as she restrained herself from cursing at him, telling him that had it not been due to her obnoxious dress she would’ve been just fine on her own.

“What do you say M’lady, do you mind doing me this favor for today?” He asked, and Arya leaned back just as he did, relaxing her shoulders and pulled a small fake smile, “If it’s you asking my lord, I have no reason to refuse such a request.” He might have noticed her acting, she was making it rather obvious, but he didn’t mind it, rather he seemed to find it even more amusing, “Wonderful, I'm sure he’ll be up for a ride by noon, I would prepare him myself, but-” “Oh no, I'm fully capable of preparing a horse on my own, my lord has nothing to worry about it, his steed is in good hands.” She interrupted, and Gendry choked down a sudden burst of laughter before clearing his throat and started heading out of the stable, leaving her to step over her own toes, cringing silently at herself, disgusted at the words coming out of her mouth.

She watched carefully as Gendry crossed the stable grounds, rolling down his sleeves once more and disappearing into the castle. He was clearly mocking her, she could still imagine the grin that must have crossed his face as he walked off. Had it not been because Arya was too distracted by her own excitement she would've maybe cared more about how shameless and insincere she must have come off to him, and she would've perhaps have minded him laughing at her if that had been the case. Although his smile was better than the cold stare and stiff posture he’d managed to hold up in King’s landing. She wondered if he was showing the true side of himself, or if he was simply just enjoying making a fool out of her. While it wasn’t her place to really question him at all, she did find it odd that he would suddenly offer her his horse, when not even her father didn’t want her to riding anything but the equivalent of a pony back home at times.

Coal was a large stallion, larger than anything she’d seen before, and it was a good match to Gendry’s she thought, and while she’d already gotten a taste of the firmness in the horses step, it struck a thrilling feeling in her gut when imagining it’s gallop. Suddenly it didn’t really matter what his intentions had been, and she rushed back into the castle and ignored the glances that followed her from the servants who was slowly waking up. She waited with great anticipation for when noon would arrive, staring out the window from her chamber and trying to place the sun behind the clouded sky.

She waited patiently for the clothing she was promised, and practically jumped up when Davos knocked on the door and opened up, holding a neatly folded stack of clothing. “Davos.” Arya greeted with a smile, eyeing the clothes in his arms, wanting to rip it out of his hold immediately. “M’lady, I have your leathers and I hope they fit, had to take it from the stables boys since it’s not exactly a custom for a lady of your status to be riding.” Davos handed her the clothing, and she was quick to hide behind the room divider in the corner of the room and began undressing herself.

“Spare me Davos, I'm riding a horse, there is no need for silks and fine wool.” she smiled as she unfolded the dark pants and started stepping down into them. “No, but I believe we still have to hold your ladyship to account for the future if this is to continue. It’d be shameful for the lad to have his lady be seen in such filthy leathers, so we ought to arrange some things.” Davos said making Ayra frown, “Riding isn't exactly lady-like to begin with Davos, the mere fact that I'm getting on a horse is shameful to lord Baratheon, so what difference does my leathers make?”

“A lot I'm afraid, as the lady of this house you ought to hold the image of one. That means looking like the owner of the horse, not it’s sitter…”

“I'm aware that you might not have much experience in the matter, but dresses and horses doesn’t exactly go together.” Arya stated as she pulled the tunic over her head noticing how of the first time the sleeves was a bit to short her. It really was a boys’ clothing. She noted Davos pacing around the room, probably overlooking the sea from the windows, with that somber looking face of his. “Who ever said it had to be a dress M’lady, I simply said leathers… worthy of being worn by the lady of house Baratheon.”

She didn’t know why she suddenly got angry at Davos’ words, she couldn’t tell if it was the lady thing or the Baratheon name that irritated her to no end. It made tightening her belt difficult when her hands started to shake from the lack of outlet, since she had held back the need to break something apart and responded with a exhale through her nose. “I believe that's her majesty the Queen.”

“Being a Queen doesn’t make her a head of a house, it makes her a Queen. Just like the king isn’t the head of the house, he’s the king of the Seven Kingdoms. The Baratheon house rules Storm’s End before anything else, The lad rules this castle, hence he’s the head.” Davos explained almost proudly as Arya came back out from behind the divider, scuffing at him as she tightened the top of the tunic.

“Are you implying that he is more powerful than the king?” Arya looked up at him with an askance glance, and Davos was quick to shake his head, “Not at all, I'm saying that the king is a king, head of a country, the lad is a lord, head of a house… There is a difference.”

“So, being a king doesn’t make him a Baratheon?”

“Of course it does, but not the lord of Storm’s End, which is the core of his family name. He will forever be more powerful than the poor lad, and his heirs will forever be more Baratheon than him. However, the houses of the Stormlands pledges themselves first and foremost to the lord in this castle, and that lord is Gendry, which automatically makes you the lady of this house.” Davos finished off, turning to face her with a judgeful eye as he looked her up and down with a frown. Arya had long grown accustomed to that look, so it wasn’t like she cared, even though she might admit that it wasn’t the most flattering look on her, given that the tunic was too short and the pants too baggy in the crotch.

“Very well… you can see to it as you see fit then. Wouldn’t want to scratch my image after all.” she said, the mockery practically dripping from her tongue as she began exiting the room and let Davos follow troop. “My lady if I have offended you I will apologize, however, I wish you’d understand the new position you are in and sense that what you do doesn’t go without consequences.”

“Trust me I grew up knowing these things, but what harm can be done with me leaving the keep for a few hours to fulfill a request given to me by the lord of Storm’s End himself hmm? I arrived yesterday, no one has yet to even notice I'm here, and everyone that would care is still in King’s Landing… so unless the opinions of farmers suddenly matter to a lord then I do not see the problem Ser Davos.” Arya rolled her eyes as they made their way down the halls once more. “Once again, I must repeat myself m’lady, clearly this won't be your last time riding a horse, I speak in perspective of the future. You should have leathers that represents who you are to these farmers and commoners.” Davos sighed, and Arya cursed invards.

It wasn’t her interest to show off to anyone, not even back home was it required of her to bear the wolf sigil of their house wherever she went. It annoyed her that even on the back of a horse could she not avoid needing to play dress up to satisfy other people. As they exited the keep and entered the grounds she turned on her heel and stared up at the old man who was only a few steps behind her, “Like I said, you can see to the arrangements then for when I return. Now, will I be needing men following me outside as well for this or am I allowed to go on my own?”

Davos ran a finger under his nose to scratch an itch as he responded rather provokingly, “Don't believe that’s necessary M’lady, it is as you said, no one has yet to notice you are here… just don't go further than you can see the castle walls, that's as much freedom as I can give you.” Arya closed her eyes in a lasting blink to not roll her eyes at him, before walking over to Coal, who was standing idly by and waiting for her. “It’s already much more than I expected I’ll give you that.” she mumbled before throwing on the saddle, she wondered if it looked as awkward as she felt it to be, as she went on her toes to make sure it landed correctly and she barely had to bend down to grab the straps.

She felt Davos’s eyes on her as she worked hard to tighten them around it’s girth, and she had to practically pull its head down to get the reins over its ears. Arya finished quickly and was granted an impressed whistle from Davos, who leaned up at the stable poll as he watched. “What?” She asked, still annoyed with him and confused as to why he was even still around. “Nothing M’lady, simply impressed that you managed to get it done so quickly.” “why because I'm a lady?” She glared, “No because that horse doesn’t let anyone handle him except his master… stubborn beast resisted the bit for over an hour last time someone else handled him, they never got on him either, they have to pull him around to make sure he got proper exercise whenever we’re gone, and even then he was pain in their asses.” Davos explained, and watched as Arya wrinkled her nose at him, not really believing him as she proceeded to adjust the stirrups.

“Can’t be that bad, look-” She said as she light as feather took to lifting herself onto Coal’s broad back adjusting her sitting as she patted it’s neck. “-simple as that, sure his stable boys weren’t just bad at their jobs?” She teased before nudging her heels in Coal’s sides and bringing him around, adjusting herself to the sudden power he carried when turning. A smile smudged over her lips as she with just a single kick brought the horse into near gallop and sprinted out the gates, not hearing as Davos finished his sentence.

“Best around actually…”

Arya did as told and stayed within the fields of the castle, tower and long wall of Storm's End always lingering in her sight. She was tempted a few times to continue to gallop down the road, get as far away as the stallion could take her, the only thing stopping her was the fact that she knew men was keeping an eye on her at all time. That and she couldn’t step as low as to steal someone else's horse, not yet at least, not even if it was a horse such as this one. It’s stride was as amazing as she’d hoped it to be, accelerating, liberating and wild. She wasn’t sure if there was any horse in the north to compare it to, it had single handedly outdone all of her father's horses. She didn’t return for a long time, spending most of her time outside laying in the tall grass to give Coal some rest. She watched the clouds, something she couldn’t really do in the north, given that it was always leading up to snow and so the sky was constantly grey. In King’s Landing there simply weren't any, each one of them vapourized by the heat of the sun.

She wasn’t good at the whole, pictureing things, she never understood how people could just suddenly spot a dragon despite having never seen one, so how would thay know what to look for? Arya found it much more fascinating to watch them as they passed over her in great speed, but by sunset they had it all turned into one giant mess and darkend their. A cold wind started to pick up around her and she figured that she should head back, before Davos sent a whole army after her. She trotted up to the front gate, and noticed the guards had a shift change while she was out. Thinking nothing of it she simply approached them, until a spear was blocking her path and another one pointing up at her. “State your business boy.” a soldier asked gruffly up at her, and Arya blinked puzzled down at him, “Business? I live here.” she stated running a hand up her neck were she realised her hair was tied up. The guard scowled deeper at her, “Yeah right you do, I’ve never seen you around here before lad.” Arya waved the spear out of her face, only to have it shoved closer to her throat instead, “I arrived last night with the ships... and I'm not a _lad_.” She held back a curse ready to jump out of her tongue, and she pushed the edge away again.

“Yeah right you’re not, if you’re not a lad got a cunt then yea?” He spat a thick laugher as he eyed her from the top of the horse, clearly not believing her and while she wished she could avoid it, and she knew it wouldn’t work she still drew a deep breath, “I'm the lady of this castle, Arya St-… Baratheon.” she managed to push out although she hated the way it taste on her tongue. It wasn’t a surprise when both the guards started their booming laugher, the gate’s walls only making the echo of them louder. She gritted her teeth and waited for them to finish, her face as stone cold and dry of emotion as she could make it.

“That's got to the funniest shit I’ve ever heard, HA! This bloody little shit of a boy thinks he passes as the wife of the bastard lord!” He wheezed and Arya wasn’t sure which part to be more furious about, “Listen I don’t know how you expected me to look, but I know who I am, so let me through.” She tried, already tired of having to deal with the two, sighing as the soldier dropped his laugher and let the tip of the spear touch lightly at her throat once more when Coal stepped forward. “Nah-Nah if that was how the world worked then I would be sitting on the bloody iron throne by now, no questions asked. Lying to me doesn’t go unpunished little fella, now get off the horse or I’ll fucking rip you off it.”

His tone caused Arya to snap, “Listen here fuck face, I don't care what you want me to be, I am who I said I am and if you still refuse to believe me go find your lord and we’ll settle it then hmm?” she glared down at him in a patronising manner, like educating a child she thought and she could already see that her tone rubbed him the wrong way, as he reached up to her and was about to grab her tunic when Gendry’s deep voice interrupted them.

“Find me and settle what exactly?” He spoke up, his attention turning from the old measter to the gate, his expression turning sour when he caught sight of the hold on the guard had on Arya. The guard was quick to let go, and rolled his shoulders when he cleared his throat, “My lord, this young man claim to be her ladyship saying he lives here and arrived with you last night although I have never seen him here before” Gendry stepped closer, waving off the maester in the process and caught Arya’s eyes mid roll, shooting her a confused gaze as he listened to the guard.

“That’s an odd way to address my wife, don't you think?” He replied, looking over at the guard who clearly still held his spear a little too close for Arya’s own liking. “I'm sorry my lord?” the guard took a double take back at Gendry who straightened his back and tilted his head up at Arya who sat and waited patiently for once. “This young man, as you put it, not very flattering to her I imagine, she doesn’t seem very pleased with it at least.” He said dryly, his blue eyes hardening as confusion spread further over the guards face, and Arya tilted her head to meet his gaze.

“I-I...My lord I-” “It’s alright my lord, I don't mind.” Arya interrupted rather dreary and mentally exhausted from the discussion. “Seems her ladyship has a forgiving heart, lucky you she grew up learning her _manners_ isn't it?-” Gendry gritted his teeth, and Arya, taken back by his reaction, watched as he grabbed the handle of the spear and yanked it away from her direction and pushed it firmly into the guards chest. He was about to turn away when the guard spoke up in a stutter, “I-we were merely doing our job as per your orders.” She noticed Gendry pulling a face before turning around again, and facing the guard head on. Arya found the guard brave, it wasn’t every soldier that was willing to pull up an argument with their lord, but then again, given his previous statement it didn’t seem like he saw Gendry as one anyway.

“Orders? What are these orders? Because as far as I know of I didn’t give out any orders saying you could keep out anyone as you see fit, and especially not her. In Fact I believe ordering my men to keep an eye on her, but do correct me since you keep such good track of the words coming out of my mouth.” Gendry spoke confidently, and practically stared holes into him as he spoke with the most indifferent expression she’d seen him pull off as of yet. The guard’s words seemed to fail him, not that Gendry gave him much time to try and come up with a response to it, “Your job is to watch for intruders, but it seems to me that you are unable to even do that given that you can’t even recognize the castles sigil to begin with, not to say your lords own horse.” He finished off harshly and jabbed his finger into the saddle where the stag sigil was pressed into the leathers.

Gendry was angry, not sure about what exactly, perhaps it was the soldiers incompetence or it was the lack of respect towards her… maybe the lack of sleep as well, he did carry a darkening shade underneath his eyes after all. It was a first for Arya, seeing him so angry, he was nowhere near the same man who King Robert had introduced her too in his chambers that day. In fact it was almost as if they were misplaced twins with the way he looked over the soldiers slightly quivering form. It was a intriguing sight at least, one she found she quite enjoyed, and wondered what else she hadn’t seen yet, what other expressions and tones he could pull off.

He took the Coal’s reins and pulled them further into the courtyard, Arya wasting little time before she jumped off and landed firmly on the ground. Gendry pulled the horse over to it’s stable and waited until Arya began working on the saddle straps to speak up, “You could’ve been harder back there you know.” Arya huffed, “Yes well, Davos has been spending his time telling me I need to take care of my image… couldn’t risk causing trouble for my lord.” She said focusing on her work, “I could hear that.” Gendry teased, having quickly turned calm again.

“I’ll have you know I did great up until that part…” she trailed off, “What part, the one where you called him a fuck face?” Gendry chuckled and Arya shot her nose up at him, “Yes, that part. I apologise, but I don't do well when it comes to physical threats, I’ll work harder to make sure It won't happen again.”

“Oh no by all means don't, I commend you for being able to hold it even that long, I’m impressed you didn’t strike him… you could’ve gotten away with it too.” He said light heartedly, glaring over his shoulders to see the soldiers talking already.

“Does it lessen if I say I was _very_ close to do so?” She asked as she pulled the bit out of Coals muzzle and pushed the bucket in front of him. “Not at all, although it is probably for the better that you didn’t.” Gendry responded, walking up and stroking his steads long neck, and Arya shrugged lightly on her shoulders, “figured as much… either way, I suppose a thank you in order my lord.” She said, bowing her head in his direction to which he frowned in discomfort, “No need for that M’lady, I was just doing my job.”

She’d figured as much, he had obviously needed to clear up the misunderstanding seeing as though it wouldn’t exactly bring him in the brightest of light to neglect his wife so easily. She was another stress added to his long list of concerns, even though it wasn’t her intention to be. “Perhaps Davos was right, I’ll be needing some proper leathers if this is the response I’ll receive without it.” She mumbled, brushing off the dirt that covered her pants, feeling rather embarrassed to be standing this way in front of Gendry. “If anything it’s better than just your garment and a stolen shirt, can’t imagine the response you would’ve gotten then.” He said, trying to sound comforting, but really just came of as if he was mocking her.

Not that he was wrong, it would’ve been much worse, but at least she wouldn’t have been mistaken for a boy. It seemed to a part of her life that stuck to her the most, it was a on going joke back home, but she hadn’t considered just how accurate it must be for other people to be mistaken as well. “How about you my lord, had anything exciting happen to you today?”

“Not quite, this might’ve been the highlight of my day really.” Gendry stated as he fed his horse and watched as it practically inhale it, “What, yelling at your guards?”

“Speaking to someone on mutual terms actually.” He corrected, and Arya gazed up at the tall man in front of him as he gently gave his attention to the black stallion, it was a tender and warm smile, a sight she somehow wished she could see head on and not from the side. “I'm guessing you must be running low on energy by now, seeing as though you’ve been working all day.” Arya changed the subject lightly, and watched him shrug, “You kind of forget about it after awhile, but yes, a bit.” He responded, taking the soft gaze she so wanted to see down to meet her eyes, and she realised that she must’ve been dirtier than the horse by then since she felt like a puppy for a second, begging to be picked off from the litter.

She always felt rather confident no matter the situation, but something about that him made her feel like a flayed chicken, and she didn’t like that. He always felt so much larger than her, it didn’t matter what she did to outdo him, even on the back of coal had he managed to look taller than her. Even in his father's chambers, shoulders crouched and head held down had he been a tower, maybe it was the Baratheon in him but he seemed to match relatively well with the castle. Arya found herself suddenly frustrated with him once again, and she huffed deeply as she pushed herself up from her knees. “You should rest then my lord, you won't be able to make rational decisions if you are delusional from the lack of sleep… I'm sure by now you’ve earned as much.” Arya said, drying off her hands in the sweat coated cloth she’d wiped down Coal with.

“Not yet, I'm afraid I left mid through an important conversation so I should really head back.” He excused, scratching the back of his head when Arya pulled a slightly disappointed look on her face. Had it been her father she would’ve been able to scold him and tell him to go bed immediately. She wasn’t sure if Gendry was really aware that he could dismiss any matter he didn’t wish to deal with. Even if he was a lord he was still a human being, one of whom have the same needs as everybody else, she’d seen what happens to people when they go on too long without sleep, and it’s not a pleasant sight.

Her mother had told her that it was a lady’s duty to keep her husband his check, and while Arya wished she could do that, she now realised that it was easier said than done. Gendry was still a stranger in an odd way, she couldn’t really put her finger on the direct reason as to why that was the case, but he wasn’t someone she could say whatever to, not yet at least. She couldn’t touch him, drag him to his bed and force him to sleep, it just wasn’t like that, she had to nudge at him. Not that it seemed to work either, he placed his work above himself, and she couldn’t stop him. “Alright then, I’ll see you later then… my lord.” she finished, walking past him and towards the stairs to take her up to her room.

It was very late by the time she’d eaten, bathed, dried and dressed herself. She was tired, but still forced herself to wait, a thick fur draped around her shoulders as she looked over the dark sea and listened to the waves as they climbed the cliff sides. It was dark in her room, she hadn’t bothered turning on any light except the fireplace, and even that was starting to die out. She was waiting for Gendry, she’d been haunted by an uncomfortable feeling ever since she’d left the stable. It annoyed her to no end, but the guilt wouldn’t stop bugging her, running her change of a peaceful sleep. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t her fault that he refused rest, but the other half of her kept asking what-if’s and forcing herself to care.

At one point into the night she explained to herself that he might just have found another bed to rest in, the chance was there, given that the castle had hundreds of rooms, but even then her conscious had still managed to win her over with doubt. At one point she got so annoyed with herself that she considered calling for Davos to drag him to bed just to settle it, or even just go out and do it herself. The only thing stopping her then was her lack of knowledge of his wearabounds and sheer refusal to bother Davos.

So she sat still throughout the night, watching the moon makes its way further up the sky and making the waves stronger. Her blank stare was broken when the door sudden opened up quietly, her head jolting towards it's direction and watched as Gendry came walking in, a half melted candle lit in his hand. It took him a while to notice her sitting at the end of the bed, her eyes were suddenly wide awake, yet his looked like he was about to pass out. “My lord.” She spoke up first, her voice loud and clear in the room.

It was as if he was reminded of a dreadful fact because he sighed deeply and clearly cursed inwards, “M’lady… why are you still awake?” His voice was very rasp and husky, he almost sounded sick in Arya’s ears, and she was quick to step out of the bed, the cover tailing behind her as she walked up and took the light out of his hands. “Waiting for you.” She mumbled as she placed the light on his desk and threw another plank of wood on the fire.

“Why?” He frowned, and she could tell that even talking was starting to turn exhausting. “To make sure you would sleep-” she said, trying not to let the frustration show as she walked back over to him and stared him down, trying to catch his slipping attention. He didn’t reply, just sighed and she noticed the despair his eye’s carried as they looked over at the desk chair. “- on your bed.” she finished firmly, and she could tell he wanted to disagree, to say that it was alright and all the other nonsense he spewed when he would dismiss her requests. She was hesitant, but she managed to bring her hands up and push his coat off his shoulders and was about to reach for the lace on his tunic before he grabbed her wrist, stopping her abruptly.

He looked like he’d been slapped in the face, eyes flustered and wide. Arya scuffed as she pulled her hand back, “What, you are going to sleep in your dirty leathers?” She said, hiding the stutter that came full force up her throat, accompanied by her heart hammering painfully into her chest. she let him stare for a quiet moment, before he let his body loosen and looked over her head toward his bed, “Alright.” he mumbled very lowly underneath his breath, before finishing what she was about to do, pushing off his vest and threw his belt to the side.

He walked over and sat down onto the bed, untying his boots before stopping and looking up at her as Arya moved over towards his stool. “What are you doing now M’lady?” he asked casually, resting his arms on his knees. “Resting.” She said simply and watched him frown, “Go to bed then.” He gestured to her assumed side of the bed and she shook her head, vividly as she knew where this was going. “Oh no, go ahead I don’t want to intrude.” She said trying her best to avoid having to go there so soon, but Gendry’s frown already indicated otherwise. “You need proper rest as well…-” he began firmly before realising why she was hesitant, “-I already told you M’lady, I won't touch you.”

He had said that before, she knew that, but she still held the same doubt as last time he’d said it. While she’d come to terms with what could happen back then, the situation had also been different, he had been different. Now that she knew him and understood him a bit better, she strangely couldn’t help but go back to feeling even more scared that he would go back on his word. She trusted him, he’d proven to her by now that she could, so why was she still so frightened?

Not being able to go against his words anyways, she began stepping closer to the bed once again, her heart hammering harder with each step. She pulled herself onto her side, sitting on her knees as if waiting for him to do something other than what he did, which was let out an exhausted exhale and landing his heavy head on the fluffy pillows. His breath turning slow and heavy almost instantly, his shoulders lifting and lowering in sync with his breathing and melted deeper into mattress. Arya watched him for a while, as if expecting him to suddenly jump up, but no, he was silent and so was she before she inevitably dozed off as well, her hand still clinging to the fabrics around her as she tried to quiet down her train of thoughts, her own relief being that the guilt had strangely left her stomach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay! Im back again, with a shorter chapter this time, but honestly had a great time writing it.  
> I really like this one and I hope you all do as well, so please tell me what you think about this since I still love reading your comments!
> 
> (edit: updated 07-08-19)


	6. Chapter 6

A heavy knock on the chamber door woke Arya up abruptly, and she shot up from the bed, as if she’d been splashed with cold water. Her breathed wheezed as she looked over to the other side of the bed, Gendry just as still as when she’d last seen him. It was just past sunrise she noticed, and the sky was clear enough to have rays reproduce the window frames on the stone floor. Quickly Arya jumped up from the bed, draping fur around her as she opened the door, and pushed whoever it was on the other side out on the hall so she could close the door behind them.

She looked up at Davos who had been startled by her sudden appearance, taking a quiet second to overlook her as she worked carefully not to slam the door. “M’lady what-” his voice was very loud and Arya was quick to shush him down, waving a fussy finger in front of her lips. “Keep your voice down would you? Our lord is still asleep.” she whisper-shouted, pushing Davos further from the door, blinking down at her, still perplexed by her outburst.

He leaned down slowly to meet her at eye height, his hands folded neatly behind his back, “I know that m’lady, that’s why I'm here to wake him up.” Arya rolled her eyes at his comment and he pulled a light smile, “Can’t it to wait a couple of hours? He’s hasn’t been sleeping since we came back.” Davos wrinkled his brows at her word as he leaned back, “Not been sleeping, again?” He sighed disappointedly, as if he’d expected it to be this way and he glared back at the door before he shook his head, “I'm afraid it can’t wait however, he’s supposed to hold an audience today with the farm owner’s sons today to discuss heritages they’ve already been waiting for weeks and I fear that if they wait much longer they might kill one another.”

Arya grinned her teeth, she didn’t want to have Gendry disturbed now that she’d finally managed to get him to sleep, knowing how he prorited his work she already knew that once he opened his eyes it would be a long while before he could shut them again. It’d been her first accomplishment as a lady, which was odd of her say since it didn’t feel like something that was necessary to be feel proud over. Inhaling slowly she bit her lips together and turned her attention back to Davos, “I can do it.” She suggested and Davos was quick to like her a doubtful look, “Wish it could be so M’lady but I'm afraid you don't have the authority to handle such matters. They wouldn’t take your word seriously.” He explained and Arya frowned at him.

“I know that, that isn’t what I'm suggesting either. What I mean is that I can meet with them in his place for today, hear what they have to say until they are satisfied and then we can postpone it until tomorrow… I have enough authority to do as much.” She mumbled the last part. for a long time she’d watched her mother do the same in Ned’s place when he’d been had sick or simply too busy to do so, she didn’t do much, just listened, Arya figured she was able to do as much for a while. As a lady she had no power when it came to the laws and decision making around the castle, she just had her title, which in and of itself was enough in most cases given she was after all married to the man that had the power.

Most people with brains would be able to understand having the lady of the house listen to them beforehand was, in most cases, a plus since it gave them some sympathy points if they played their cards right. That was if Arya actually cared about it, she wasn’t planning advising Gendry on anything, she could hardly tell him to go to bed, chances that she could pull something like that off was slim.  

Davos thought about it for a moment, before nodding, “If you think it’ll work M’lady. I assume you are well educated in these kind of strategies.” He guessed and Arya shook her head, “ I would not call it a strategi Davos, it's simply a distraction so that my hard work of getting him to rest doesn’t go to waste... it's one of the few things Im good at.” She said, tightening her hold on her covers, pulling them closer. Davos chuckled lowly, “Yes, he’s had that problem since the day he was given a name and a lordship, he’s grew up being taught to finish a job before anything else. The thing with being a lord is that there will always be more work to do… and he has trouble letting go, to makes matters worse he still chooses to hold on to that other part his life that came before this.” Davos sighed and folded his arms over his chest, giving the door a pitiful look.

Curiously Arya blinked up at him, about to ask what that meant when he spoke up again, his expression already switching back to a smile, “Well then M’lady, I’ll go ahead and tell them of your arrival, your dress was washed and dried while you were in your outing yesterday. I'm afraid you won't find an excuse not to wear it this time around, not until the tailor gets here at least.” “Thank you Davos, I’ll be down as soon as I'm able to.” She said, quietly making her way into the room again, much to her comfort had Gendry managed to stay asleep and showing no sign of waking up anytime soon.

She worked fast, quickly wiping her face and hands, dressing herself, and tied up the top of her hair, not taking her chances like yesterday. As she headed out she ever so slowly put up her facade, and did her best to copy Sansa by folding her hands in front of her and keeping her chill high, as well as her shoulders and back straight. She walked in as she would up north, without any curtsies from servants before hand, it was a way to catch one's opponent of guard and a power play her mother had explained.

It had worked as well, she came in from the side of the great hall, and the sons standing in the middle of the hall, their loud voices going still as soon as she made her appearance. She didn’t say anything at first, simply looked over the room, it was similar to the one in the north, except the roof was taller and the lord’s table was raised up a bit. Banners hung from the walls and large braziers stood along the walls, the windows were open, leaving a good view of the sea on the side. Davos stood just below her, looking up at her in a respectable manner and a knowing smile on his lips, She sat down on one of the two only chairs by the table, folding her hands in front of her before Davos spoke up.

“Gentlemen, you are standing before the ladyship of Storm’s End and the Stormlands, Lady Arya Baratheon of house Baratheon, former lady Stark-” Davos had only just begun and it already made Arya nauseous just hearing him present her, she saw no point in the long titles and presentation but she knew there was no avoiding it. She was just happy she wasn’t a king.

“-My lady, these men come before you today to discuss with you their concern for their ill fathers soon passing. This is Simon and James, sons of farmer Carlson of the far fields. Simon is true born, James is not, however farmer Carlson has said to consider him trueborn and has requested for legitimation in the past under lord Stannis Baratheon's rule but was denied do to so due to delay on past promises to the house. Your husband has promised to reconsider this legitimation at request of James who is the oldest of the two, however it is Simons wish to have it remained denied.” Davos finished off, and Arya narrowed her eyes a bit at the two. The oldest bastard farmer, was brown of hair and tall, just not very built, he kept his eyes firmly on her and his chin just as tall. The youngest trueborn farmer was sand-blond and of similar height, he had strong arms and a broad shoulders, he kept his gaze slightly to the side of her, and but managed to still hold his head straight, even if he seemed nervous to do so.

Arya bit her tongue before speaking, reconsidering her words before continuing, “And what's your reason wishing for the request to be denied?” She asked trying her best to mimic her mother's tone, even if it was hard. the blond man, Simon stepped forward, “M’lady, I am my father's only trueborn son, I have lived by his side all my life, and served in his honor, my brother has not, he found our home only five years ago. Now my father is sick, dying, and I am standing… wishing to take my claim as my father's heir to his farm. Now I am being intercepted by my brother wishing his legitimation and take away my claim as the eldest son and become his successor in my stead.” He explained with a sorrowful look in eyes, a sincere one at that.

Arya picked at her thumb as she listened to his words. Arya found it snarky if it was the truth, if he was the trueborn son then he obviously had more of a claim already, there was no discussion about it, and should Gendry accept the legimatison would he be able to lose that claim. It was obvious that the youngest had a strong sense of pride in his heritage, she couldn’t blame him, she was proud of her own stark name, so she understood if he didn’t want it taken away.

“And you?” she said, turning her attention to the eldest, James, who took a step forward as well when Simon took one back.

“M’lady, may I start by saying that it is truly an honor to have such a northern beauty bless us with her attention on this matter, lord Baratheons luck truly is immeasurable…” There it was, that sweet talk she was so used to hear directed towards her mother in these situations. It was as she expected, he was trying to get her on his side so she would convince Gendry to pick his favor. Just his luck that she didn’t plan on picking it so far. She noticed Davos’s wary eyes looking up at her, and she responded with a light parting on her lips as a sigh escaped her, knowing she would have to respond to that shit pile of words.

“Now really isn’t the time for compliments do you think? If I wish to be flattered I’ll ask, or I’ll go to my oh so lucky husband, thank you.” She said dryly, wishing there was suddenly something she could drink to wash away the bitterness in the back of her throat. To say she was disgusted with him was an understatement, she found it vile that he not only lied to her, but also thought it worked.

It might’ve been visible as he bowed his head deeply and apologised, “Excuse me my lady, I meant no disrespect. I arrived at my father's farm fives years ago as my brother says, my mother’s last words was to find my father so I did. He greeted me with open arms and took me in and named me his son, he requested I be legitimised but was denied it by lord Stannis. It has been his wish to have it accepted ever since, and now that he is on his deathbed I wish to fulfill his last wish, I may not have lived next my father my whole life, but I am his son just as much as my brother so I too will ask for my claim on his lands as the eldest.

He was surprisingly cocky for a bastard she thought, he hadn’t even been legitimised yet but he stilled played as if he had. She knew from experience that it isn’t normal for fathers to embrace their bastards and hold them as their heirs, not even her father treated Jon that way even if he was considered a part of the family. Perhaps Gendry was one such exception, but he wasn’t an heir in the same way as Joffrey was, as far as she understood he was the last resort to yet another problem King Robert didn’t wish to deal with.

“Lord Baratheon has yet to make his decision correct? Why are you so confident?” She asked intrigued in his intentions. “He hasn’t no, it is what we expected to get the answer to today my lady. However his lordship has shown promise in granting my father's wish.” He was quick to state, and Arya frowned at his words, of course Gendry would consider it, he’s a previous bastard himself and James seemed to play into that fact. “Simon-” She broke in, causing the blond man to flinch in his spot, “- are you wed?” He shook his head, “Not yet M’lady, it has been put on hold due to my father's illness.”

“But you are engaged?”

“Yes M’lady.” He nodded, and she looked at the eldest who was stare at, perplexed by her question, “And you?” “Not yet M’lady, I'm still a bastard, I can’t wed, but I have my eyes on a woman.” Arya nodded slowly, either was good but Simon did have that advantage over James. He couldn’t be wed when he was a bastard, and he can't be blessed if his father is dead, he’ll need to come to Gendry for that. Should Simon wed before him would his claim instantly be strengthen, especially if there’s a child in the mix.  

“The lady of the family, where does she stand?” She then asked.

“My mother has already passed M’lady, last fall due to a cold.” Great, so now her influence was cut out of the picture, and if she was dead, then there was no way older relatives were alive. She leaned back in her chair just slightly and sighed deeply, “It seems the outcome of this remains solely on lord Baratheons choice of weather or not to legitimise you. You believe he will because he can empathize with you correct?”

“That is my hope M’lady.” James nodded lightly and Arya sighed, it seemed like a stupid idea to do so. No only did she not like him, but she knowing how families react when bastard got special treatment she could already tell that it wouldn’t end well. No matter a dying mans wish, having a trueborn son angry with the higher power tended to have more of an impact on the people than a bastards opinion.

“I hope my husband choose wisely then… and I of course send my condolences to your future loss of your father.” she finished off, and she could tell by the impressed look on Davos’s face that she’d done right in not poking further into the boil. She was about to leave when James spoke up again, “So you will give me your favor? Help lord Baratheon understand?”

She looked to Davos, and seeing him shake his head lightly was enough for her to hold back her need to lash out at him. “My husband doesn’t need me to help him, I'm sure that when the time comes he’ll make the right decision.” She forced a smile, and standing up, noticing the relief that spread over Simons face.

Davos directed them out of the hall, shutting the door behind them when entering the hall yet again, sighing in deep relief as he walked back up the steps and onto the landing, “I must admit M’lady, I didn’t think it was going to go as smoothly as it did, I'm impressed.” Arya sat back down onto the chair and folded her hands over her stomach as she ignored his comment and looked up at him in concern.

“Has he made the choice yet?”

“Not yet I don't think, it’s been bothering him I know. It’s as you said after all, he’s rather empathetic to people with the same roots as him.” Davos shrugged, “ it’s a bad idea, if people see him legitimise another bastard out of sheer favoritism, they might riot.” Arya argued, her hands playing with a strand of hair as she pictured possible outcomes.

“He also risks losing their respect if he chooses to ignore a dying mans wish.” Davos countered, leaning up against the stone wall, but Arya shook her head, “It is not a lord’s job to grant the wishes of dying men, it’s to do what is right for the people. If everyone went around and prioritised dying people's wishes we would be seeing a whole lot more people on the iron throne. There are rules that he can't go against no matter the situation, not without cutting deeper into the wound.” Arya explained slowly.

“There’ll be a wound no matter what I'm afraid.” “Yes, but you tell me which is worse, the fury of one bastard son or the fury of a whole village lead by a trueborn?-”

The answer was pretty obvious, hence why Davos didn’t respond to it, she could tell that he wished there was a better way of doing things that didn’t involve hurting either of the boys. He clearly had a empathetic side to himself just as Gendry did, It wasn’t like Arya didn’t understood why, she too wished another solution. However, she also understood the responsibility a lord had and the fact that there was no pleasing everyone.

“-Personal opinions isn’t always the smartest, feelings cloud your judgement I'm afraid.” Arya finished, glancing up at Davos who swallowed a unsure feeling down his throat. It was clear that he didn’t like the answer, not that she did either but it was the truth. she took a glance behind him to see the sea, where the sun was starting to show its face, it was still early and she contemplated silently before sighing lightly, “I'm guessing there are still people queued up for an audience with the lord… Tell them he’s dealing with more important issues, if they still wish to speak their case, send them in, I’ll listen.” She said slowly, and Davos wrinkled his brows at her.

“Are you sure M’lady? They are all rather… bewailing.” he asked uncertain by her choice of help, but Arya didn’t really care, it was still to early to force Gendry awake, if he even should be woken. She waved a lazy hand in front of her, and held a longing blink as she waved him off, “Of course they are, they always are, they are never pleased, just go so we can get it over with.” She said, her words pulling a smile on Davos face as he bowed his head before heading out, Arya taking the opportunity to lean back fully and exhale deeply, forcing the laces around her stomach to loosen.

Several hours passed, one commoner after the other, all with one problem or complaint each. They were all rather pitiful in Arya’s ears, most was requests of contribution for things such as dead animals or stolen goods, all things they weren’t obligated to pay for. A couple of them were about disagreements between two men, they disagreed about the smallest things regarding which rock belonged to which land, then the water from the creet belonged to the other man and one of them about which sons should be allowed to screw the barmaid.  It was all rather mediocre stuff that she knew that really didn’t need or deserve Gendry’s attention as much as he’d let on. That said this was also the troubles that had been send through to him after the officers in each village that deemed them too “hard to figure out” it was very clear to Arya that wasn’t the case. They simply didn’t feel like dealing with it, they threw the poor people’s problem at their lord but still collected the coin for having them spend the time to do so.

It was rather disgusting to Arya, not even her father dealt with so much nickpicking as this, but she was sure that this was just another result of Gendry taking more on his plate than he could handle or even needed to handle. At first Arya tried to remember the problems of each person, and noted the most necessary things in the back of her head for when she would report it to Gendry. She realised quickly that it wasn’t as easy, and took to taking notes, but after the first time she realised that it made it harder to listen and focus on the people that had asked for her attention.

Davos found a servant who was set to write down each visit, their problems, important points such as name and residence and arguments. She asked Davos after the first few if she at the very least could solve the small problems, and he allowed her, meaning that most people problems wouldn’t even reach Gendry’s ears as she solved them. Not with the way it was supposed to, with a dokument and the lords sigil having the last word, but by making the people settle, at least the ones she could.

The most stubborn of men still demanded the paper, which was as it was, not that Arya understood why they had even bothered to still complain to her when they knew they wouldn’t be getting it. However, as with most things concerning the nobles and their customs the commoners weren’t the wiser and simply took Arya’s word and orders, as if they held the same power to them as their lords, not even knowing there was more to it than that, no sigil and no paper. They only knew that her orders mattered outside of the law, hence they must also matter inside it.

A few carried with them the same attitude as James had, thinking at having their lady’s attention mattered and that it would bring them an advantage that she listened. As if her words would magically make Gendry rain golden coins over their heads just because she acted like a soft and gentle being that was able to wind her husband around her finger. She almost felt guilty when that wasn’t the case, in fact her listening to them might have brought them more of an disadvantage than anything given that she honestly didn’t really care about their problems since they were _that_ mediocre.

Cut the damn stone in half. Yes, the water belongs to you once it enters your land. The maid can damn well choose who she wants to screw, the sons can't be entitled to a womans body, if they want to screw, her appeal to her. These were some of all the thought that ran through Arya’s head as she listened to their endless blabbering, children the whole lot, screaming for attention and bickering just to bicker. She could not believe Gendry actually sat through this and still managed to feel sane afterwards, she didn’t even feel like pulling a smile whenever Davos attempted to cheer her up with a witty joke.

When she finished, the sun was above the windows, and she finally allowed herself to retreat to her chambers, gathering the papers in her hands and thanked Davos for allowing her to do it. Even if she kind of regretted it now. She scratched the back of her head as she walked down the hall, a yawn escaping her loudly and really unlady-like. A door opened up to her side, catching her by surprise and she had to catch herself not to drop the papers stacked up in her arms. She was met with a young maid, dark hair and wide green eyes staring into Arya as she realised who she was standing before.

Her faced pulled into a frightened look as she bowed down deeply, her long braid falling over her shoulder and her hands twitching by her side folding with her pure white apron. “My lady, I- I didn’t know you were here I’m so-so sorry I-” Arya watched her almost dumbfounded as she struggled with her words, her voice rather rasp for a woman her age but nonetheless sweet and carried an unfamiliar accent with her. “It’s alright.” Arya interrupted, not understanding why she’d need to apologise, it wasn’t like she could watch through walls.

The woman quickly straightened her back, her kept her eyes wavering between the floor and Arya, scared to look at her for too long. Arya had never seen her before, not that she’d seen every servant in the castle yet, but even so, her features were so rare she’s surprised she slipped past her. Not to say her apron was new, most of the maids walking around the castle had spoiled aprons, all carrying a hole or rough edges. “Are you new by any chance?” Arya asked, turning her whole body towards her, and giving her a curious brow.

It surprised the woman, and she blinked many times while trying to grasp onto her question, parting her lips as she attempted to speak her answer, but when she realised that wasn’t going to happen she simply nodded. Arya rolled her shoulders lightly and nodded her own head, proud she’d gotten it correct and applauded her own observation skills in her head. “When did you arrive?” She then asked, happy that she wasn’t the only one getting to know her surroundings.

“A month ago… my lady.” She almost coughed up, and Arya could tell it was a strain on her throat to push out the words, the rasp deepening a bit. It almost looked like it hurt in Arya’s opinion. “I see… you must still be adjusting then.” She muttered, trying not to lower her voice too much. The woman hesitated to respond once more, more nervous than Arya liked her to be, she’d had enough people feel uneasy around her for one day, “It’s alright My lady.”

Her tense posture and broken tone made even Arya feel bad, it was worse than even Gendry, but only by a hair. She tugged her papers closer before clearing her throat when the silence started to made even the air awkward, “Right, well, I hope you’ll find yourself at home soon.” She spoke up quickly before she turned on her heel and bolted down the hallway again, feeling the woman's stare in the back of her head.

She breathed softly when she entered the lord’s chambers her fingers laying softly up against the wooden frame as she shut the door behind her. She gritted her teeth as she stepped over the floor, the wooden heel on her boots making more noise than she realised, and she was quick to bend down and untie them and stepped out onto the slightly chilly stone.

Her eyes glanced over at the bed on at the end of the room, watching Gendry’s incredibly still figure rise up and down, and listening for a change in the rythmen of his deep breathing. She held her breath all the way over to his desk, where she cleaned up the mess of papers laying there before placing down her own stack. She sat down onto the chair and breathed out softly, tugging her cold feet further up her beneath her and grabbed the quill standing in the far corner of the desk.

She was careful with the first dip as she realised the metal end of the quill clinged softly against the glass. However after awhile she grew confident in the fact that he was sleeping through the little noise she was making. She even managed to throw on fresh firewood into the fireplace without waking him up, squinting each time he would deepen his huffs every so often.

She worked quietly, wanting to finish the paperwork as quickly as possible, it was easy for most of them, but for the ones demanding to hear Gendry’s final decision she needed to make up a report. It was truly boring, and she hated every minute of it, not ever had she thought she would actually be needing to use the things her mother had spent years forcing down her throat. She could only imagine how long he must spend of these types of things given his poor writing, she felt worse for Davos who had to redo it all.

It was nearing the afternoon hours when she noticed Gendry suddenly starting to shift, his breath breaking more often and he seemed to stir. Arya didn’t let herself worry at first, figuring he was simply starting to feel sore from laying on his shoulder all night and day, but he let out a low broken growl and a hissed breath which caused her to shoot up her head. she couldn’t make out his expression, and barely got to part her lips before Gendry shot up, his eyes wide and wild as they stared into nothing for a moment, his arms tense by his side as he drew in slow and steady breaths again.

Arya dropped the quill from her hand, and Gendry’s wrenched around, his eyes shooting at her small figure like arrows, flinching like a startled dog before he recognized her.  He said nothing, making Arya feel unnerved as he looked around the room before sighing almost relief-like. “You’re awake.” Arya said simply after a hesitant moment, tickling her jaw when she noticed the black spot of ink over the page, and put the quill back in the jar. Gendry ran a lazy hand over his face, pinching the bridge between his eyes as he yawned, shaking off whatever had washed over him.

“M’lady... forgive me I didn’t realise I-...” He tailed off into a sentence he didn’t really know how to finish, his mind still sleep deprived and eyes still hardly open. Arya could tell he still needed sleep, her being there might have ruined his possible attempt to do so, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go.  “You’ve been sleeping heavily my lord, you must’ve really needed it as I thought.” she cleared her throat, trying to avoid staring at the large crease marks of the pillow that stretched up his neck and jaw. It was a silly sight, but at the same time very satisfying to see that he’d been sleeping well. It brought a warm feeling into her chest, knowing she’d done right by him.

Gendry groaned as he stretched his arms above his head, when his caught sight of the short line of light on the floor, and his eyes grew wide in disbelief. “How long was I asleep?” “Not sure, but the afternoon bell has already rung.” Arya shrugged lightly and hid a smile from him when he groaned into his hands, letting them run over his crew-cut hair and lock around his neck. He sat and blinked as he stared out over the waters, the confusion turning almost into horror on his face as if he was watching his world burn.

Yet another expression she’d never seen him pull before, this one she found humorous as she could practically read his thoughts as they flashed before his eyes. His brows curled inwards and his lips were slightly parted, eyes widened but carried a lazy haze with them. not entirely scared, it was closer to mix between melancholy and irritation, Arya wasn’t so sure why he was so flustered by it, she herself would’ve loved to be able to sleep as soundly as he had done.

“It’s my fault my lord…-” She started out slowly, catching Gendry’s attention, “- I asked Davos to leave you be so you could rest.” His brows shifted into a frown of confusion and he watched her closely as she shifted in her seat. “Why?”  

She folded her hands in front of her stomach and sighed softly, “Because you needed it, you hadn’t slept properly for nearly three days.” She watched him close his mouth into a thin line, and she could she it in his eyes that he knew she was right about that. “M’lady I-” Arya didn’t let him speak, figuring that if Gendry was like any other man in her life he would take this chance to tell her that she either one; didn't have to, or two; shouldn’t worry about it.

“Don’t worry about the audience, I’ve taken care of it in your place… to an extent. You are free for the rest of today, I’ve asked Davos to take of the precautions and other necessities.” She stated, turning to flip through the pages she’d managed to finish, ignoring the perplexed look he was giving her. “Taken care of it, how?” He squinted at her, “I met with the people, listened to them… Satisfied their need for moaning to a noble face mostly, some I’ve managed to have them solve their own problems without the need for your further involvement. Others will still be needing your attention… but at a later time.” She said slowly, pulling out some the papers she’d written for him to understand what she meant.

Gendry was silent for some time, doing nothing but stare at her with a sharp eye, searching for face someone else. “You...you’ve been doing my job for me?” There was something dry in his throat, maybe it was still the sleep tugging in him but he sounded strangely stern when he spoke up, sending a lightly shiver down her spine and just like before she avoided his long gaze. Only now did she question if she’d done the right thing by taking his duty from his hands without him knowing, as well as using his power without his knowing about it.

“Yes.” She said hesitantly and slowly, not looking up at him. Something like a deepsided sigh escaped him and she heard a thud before looking over at watching him spread out on his back, his arms above his head just the back on the ship when she’d offered to write the letter to king Robert. His face was hidden by the mountains of furs on her side of the bed, but she could hear the smile on his lips as he huffed almost amused by her response. Arya watched her husband for a moment, taken aback by his response once again, and watched as his chest rose and fell slowly.

“You did…” He caught him mutter under his breath and by pure curiosity she rose from her seat and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the wooden end of the bed, her hands resting on the round knob on the corner. She was correct with her assumption he carried a light smile on his lips, which only dropped when he noticed her and sat up again, “Davos agreed to it?” He suddenly asked her, to which she nodded.

“He did, he acted as if he’d almost expected it from you.” She said, recalling the words he’d said to her that morning. About Gendry’s distractions.

Gendry ticked his jaw and rolled his shoulders, “I suppose I’ll hear for this.” He spoke softly under his breath, it wasn’t meant for her to respond to, so she didn’t, she simply waiting for him to look back up at her, “Had any troubles M’lady?” He asked.

Arya blinked down at him with a raised brow before shaking her head slightly, “None at all, it’s quite easy when you actually look the part you’re playing.” She explained gesturing to her dress, and Gendry chuckled softly which tugged one corner of his mouth into a crooked smile. “I see, I suppose a lady of your upbringing should be able to handle as much…” He breathed, and Arya felt a uncomfortable wrench in her chest. Perhaps he didn’t know much about her or had poor observation skills, but she was nothing close to a good lady, in fact she might be the worst lady to be married to. She’d done nothing in terms of guiding like a good lady should, she was poor in posture and she struggled to keep her voice in one tone when speaking, not to say she didn’t do crochet or knitting, her fingers simply weren’t build for that.

She just couldn’t tell Gendry that though, she thought it was best to leave him to his own determination of her character, given that she only really needed to fool him for her to fulfil her duty to her family. Instead she changed the subject to a thought that’s been lingering on her mind since morning, “I spoke to the sons of the far fields today. They were the only people I couldn’t manage on my own, and they’ll need an answer soon… very soon.” She spoke softly and Gendry’s expression fell mute and tried very quickly, his eyes moving to the ceiling.

“Yes I remember... “ He tailed off as if not really wanting her to know his response, but she wasn’t stupid, and she could tell that her expectations were right. “You shouldn’t legitimise him my lord… it’s too risky.” She spoke up, her hands tightening it's hold on the wood when he closed his eyes gently, a glooming feeling spreading over his face.

“It’s his father's wish… it’s _his_ wish, why should I deny it? Because he’s the eldest and the youngest feels entitled to his heritage… it his father's choice.” Gendry began, keeping his eyes closed as he spoke up, his worded picked carefully as they passed his lips. Arya frowned, “No, because it isn’t right to do so… when you accept it, not only will it anger the trueborn son but it’ll anger your people when they hear you are biased towards a bastard.”

“Because I'm a bastard? M’lady, I’m very well aware of the consequences that could follow, however I'm not so sure you understand what a rare opportunity that boy is given...His father wants him, that’s already a hundred times more than what a lot of bastards get. If I can grant him that life…” Gendry tried to explain it to her, but his words failed him at the end, his thought over taking him for long enough for Arya to step in.

“Can’t be that rare, your father wanted you… “ She said slightly sternly, it wasn’t that she was oblivious to the mind of bastards, Jon had spend nights telling her about it. However it didn’t change the fact that it was a poor decision, her father cared for Jon as well, but he never legitimized because he knew it was a poor decision to do.

Gendry cracked his neck from side to side before standing up, “That’s not entirely true.”  He mumbled quietly, clearly not wanting her to catch it. “You’ve got to see it differently my lord, you won't just risk making a mistake but you’ll ruin the other sons life by doing so. If the oldest son cared so much about being legitimized why is he waiting until know, when his father is on his dead bed, to so do?” She argued, following him with her eyes as he walked over and splashed cold water into his hands and rubbed the sleep off him.

“ _Because_ his father is dying… you forget I haven’t had his position for long.”

“Still, it could have waited until after his death.-” Arya spoke up, catching Gendry’s harsh eyes over his shoulders, but she could sense the question lingering on his lips, “- His younger brother, he’s to be wed… he has his father's blessings as well. If they wed and conceive a child soon after there wouldn’t be a reason for him to be legitimised, for he would never be able to be heir to the farm anyways… unless it’s a daughter of course but he doesn’t seem like the man to take that kind of chance. He is playing his chances into you legitimising him before his father's death, so he can get blessed to marriage as well and certify his position as head of the family. I know you haven’t been in your position long, but given how much you work, I’ll say it’s been long enough for him to have requested a reconsideration.”

Arya was close to speaking through gritted teeth, she didn’t know why it made her as furious as it did. Something about having said her thoughts out loud seemed to get her heated quickly, and Gendry was able to tell by the way he turned to face her completely, both his hands supporting his weight behind him against the table. Once more he looked at her, searched her, for someone else but when he still couldn't find it he spoke up.

“You think he’s doing this deliberately-.” He stated, not questioning her tone before looking over to the sea, “-If the youngest get to be the successor there’ll be no family to be legitimised into anyways. Both the parents are dead, there is simply no point to it, not to say I can’t legitimise a man into a family that doesn’t want him… he’ll be strayed once again, a dead man.” He breathed defeatedly, he didn’t seem to have the energy to even continue thinking about it.

Arya could tell it weighed him down as much as Davos had said it did, but now wasn’t the time to consider others feelings. It’s like she said, there are just certain rules that can’t be broken, and as a lord he can’t afford to put the life of one over the life of many… it was her job to remind him.

“I know that… but rather kill off the rat before the disease spreads.” She spoke up, giving Gendry time to collect himself, rising from her spot and walked over to the desk and picked up her papers and walked over to him, “I won't tell you want to do, so far I haven’t seen you pick a fight you can’t win… Still, take it for a girl who has seen what things like this can do to families from up close-” She said lightly, looking up at him and trying to catch his ghosting eyes that seemed to look through her, She rose her hands and showed him her work,

“Now that you’ve slept and is pretty much free for the day, do you perhaps think you could spare some of your time and write your name all over these?” she tried to tease. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a pov change once or twice, because it's time to do so, and I want to. 
> 
> This "sub plot" thing is nothing but to build up their relationship and a respect between them, just so you know, after this things will speed up a bit more and be a bit more fluffy so bear with me. We are taking this for a long run so dont worry you'll get your share of the cake. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> (edit: updated 08-08-19)


	7. Chapter 7

-.

Gendry weren’t much of a thinker, he never has been. Sure he could use his brain, and he definitely knew people who used their brains less than he believed possible, he had to give himself credit for at least that much. That said he had never been put into a position where he would need to consider and think as much as this past year and a half, for the first month of being a lord he carried constant headache, but he also thought that half of the reasons for that was the alcohol he’d been poisoning his body with. It was a  great coping mechanism but he also had enough of a brain to know that it couldn’t continue to be that way. He only stopped after having snapped one ugly day, he didn’t really want to recall it, partly because he doesn’t remember much of it in the first place but he did remember his fist turning bloody.

Davos had been his advisor since day one, he practically did his job for him the first few weeks of being in Storm’s End. He taught Gendry everything he needed to know about being a, somewhat, presentable lord. Not that Gendry was going to cut himself too short, ever since he finally got it through his thick skull that there was no way out of the life he had been given, he’d put his whole being and attention to at least try and get better at it. It look him some time to get the soldiers to respect him, they all knew of his roots so they didn’t exactly go easy on him. There might be some loose ends here and there, but he’d learned how to clean them up bit by bit after he realised that no one had blind followers as he expected. Not that he wanted followers to begin with.

He thought himself to be pretty good at the whole “listening” part of his lordship, it didn’t require a whole lot to just sit there and look like he cared about what they were saying. He found it to be a great time to empty his head and just sit there, even if it sucked the life out of him after an hour had passed. He found the best time was spent on the back of Coal, doing nothing but moving forward to who knows where and only returning a few hours after sunset. Gendry had never actually ridden a horse before his life as a lord, and he certainly didn’t think he’d like it as much as he did. Growing up in King's Landing didn’t give him a reason to learn it, not to say that he definitely didn’t have the money for one.

Gendry wasn’t the most talkative of people, he was used to not being wanted to talk to which caused him to sometimes not even be attentive when people finally did speak to him. He’s been getting better, he likes to think so at the very least, but he still fails to react from time to time when a person of status speaks to him… the higher the worse really. Most of his officers he’d been accustomed to almost instantly, given that he didn’t think very highly of them to begin with, it was the same with envoys and such. They weren’t that high on his list, just assholes really, and he was used to handle such people. It was when the lords of his other strongholds visited him that his lack of lordly manners and lowly speech patterns started to become a problem.

After a year he was starting to settle into his role as the new lord of Storm’s End and in extension of that the Stormlands. He found himself busy all the time, which he had long grown used to growing up, not to say he quite liked it. He remembered it pretty clearly, the day Davos came in with a scroll in his hand, the Kings sigil sealing it shut. It was short and didn’t say much other that the fact that he was summoned to the capital as soon as possible, and he didn’t think much of it.

He’d only been summoned once before that, not including the day he was dragged through the streets of King’s Landing and thrown at the king's feet like a rag doll. It had been a rather unnecessary meeting as well, at least in Gendry’s opinion, the King spoke briefly about a concern he had, regarding a girl on the other side of the narrow sea. Gendry didn’t actually ask further into it at the time, for one he didn’t want to, for another he figured it was just another woman the king wished to whore around with only too fill her womb with another bastard.

He spoke of her like she was a magical being that he just had to have because he could. The meeting ended with nothing being done as well… that was the impression he got at the time, he knows better now, but he figured he wasn’t going to concern himself with it when it clearly wasn’t meant for him to do so, he had only been there for the formalities sake. 

Gendry left as soon as he could, and arrived in the port of King’s Landing about two weeks later. He’d lived there his whole life but his nose suddenly couldn’t stand the stench nor the sight of it, the brown walls simply confirming what a shit whole the city really was, and the crimson walls of the Red Keep being the cherry on top of it all.

When he finally figured out why he was there, there wasn’t really much he could say or do, his lungs were as empty as his brain. He felt like he’d been bashed in the head with a hammer, he couldn’t really hear anything and he had trouble regaining his focus on the king as he sat on the throne in front of him. He wanted to object, but what the fuck was that supposed to change, it wasn’t like it changed anything the first time the king made a decision for him. He remember vomiting that day, but he also remembered drinking a lot so if it was the nausea or the alcohol that made him puke up whatever he’d consumed that day he wasn’t so sure about. Not that he cared, the food they served tasted worse that he remembered it doing, and he’d eaten out of the trash in his younger days.

When the day finally arrived Gendry didn’t have the stomach to go to the feast, he’d stayed away from the castle the whole day, not wanting to be there when the carriage came, wanting to stay himself for just a while longer. He got distracted that night and completely forgot about the feast, only remembering it when he’d heard guards speak about it.

He was in a rush, and a bit woozy he’ll admit, but not enough for him to lose his head completely when he ran into her. She was small, very small. She carried an exhausted look on her face, her shoulders slouched and she looked very tired until she caught sight of him. A strand of dark brown hair had loosened itself from her bun, creating a odd bump on the top of her head he remembered, but she didn’t seem to notice it herself. He didn’t know her face, and he didn’t have time to either because he was quick to continue down the hall again with only a few word exchanged between them.

The moment he met her eyes again it’d struck him in the face, cold and hard, like the markel from the market that’s being sold for the third time that week. It left a slimy feeling down his spine, an itchy and gross feeling, that only got worse with the heat and the leather he was wearing. He felt scared for his life when he saw her in the king’s chambers, he could practically hear the executioner drawing his sword as well as the crowd mingling with the bells calling for his head. He hadn’t known who she was and now that he did he knew that death might as well be the best option for him, because the punishment he would have to suffer from having ignored a lady of her caliber would be ten times worse.

He didn’t fear her, no, not in the slightest, he feared the words coming out of her mouth. A single word and she could have him crushed, it was even more simple than she seemed to have realised. The king wouldn’t defend him… no he would do her one worse that much Gendry knew, and it was _that_ fact that scared him. Gendry was aware of the king’s and lord stark's relationship, he’d spoken to him before the meeting. The king and lord stark wasn’t compatible, too different… but if he offended his daughter it would not be lord stark that called for blood, it would be the king.

Her name was Arya Stark, she certainly looked it anyways, he could see pieces of her father in her, although from the description the king had made whenever he would idolise her, she was apparently looking like someone else. Not that he would know about their resemblance, but the king spoke enough about it for even Gendry to find it fascinating. He had heard the stories about Lyanna Stark, she was apparently goddess-like, an angle with a incomparable spirit… and that was using Roberts words.

Gendry couldn’t see it though, sure Arya was decent, she surely had something special about her features he wouldn’t deny that, but to call her a goddess? It’s a matter of preference perhaps. She didn’t seem like a girl that would consider it herself, given the fact that she didn’t take herself too seriously. She had spoken rather informally when they got out of the king's office. It had put him off but that wasn’t why he was uncomfortable, it was the guards and people around them that prevented him from responding to her the way she might have preferred.

She might not have known, she didn’t seem to anyways, but Gendry had spend enough time around the Red Keep to know that you were never really alone. If one word got out that he hadn’t treated her better than the queen herself, he knew the king would hear it, in fact even if he didn’t speak to her like that the king would still hear about it. So when she grew tired of him he didn’t think twice about it before getting as far away from her as he could.

Gendry had from the first time he saw her, had the idea that she was a bit odd. He knew whores who acted more ladylike than her, so when he saw his latest project, broken, dented and scratched up in her small hands he didn’t know if he was supposed to be impressed or angry. He wanted to throw her out into the open sea below, yell at her and curse at her, and had she been any other woman he would’ve done it, spies or not. He’d worked on that sword since they arrived, it was made of materials that had been difficult for Gendry to get a hold off. Spending hours on end figuring out how to handle the metal, not to say it had been the last sword he would be able to make before he was to be forced to throw away his past for good… and that was assuming he could.

She’d ruined it, broken it apart like it was nothing, and he would never be able to fix it without overworking the metal and have it be even more brittle than it already was. Still, he could tell she felt guilty and hadn’t wanted to ruin it had she not been clouded by whatever was on her mind. He couldn’t help but feel pity for her, so he ignored the sword, it wasn’t like he couldn’t make another.

Gendry found himself fascinated with Arya, even if he learned pretty quickly that she despised him, or at least what he was. She had a sharp tongue and was quick to snap back at people, but at the same time she was perhaps one of the most apprehensive people he knew when she was pressured. She was shy and seemed quick to pull back whenever he spoke to her, as if she needed to watch her words. He could tell he was the only exception to this, seeing as she had no trouble speaking her mind to Davos or anyone else. She struggled a lot, trying to comprehend what she was being forced through... it was a shape she didn’t seem familiar with and Gendry could strongly relate to her in a way.

So he didn’t push her… that's what he told himself at least, but he was also trying not to push himself. He wasn’t an animal, at least not the kind everyone around him made him out to be, and forcing a girl down just to satisfy some old noble men and a word that really meant nothing to him just felt wrong. She was scared of him, he knew that, and with everything else going on around him, her father, the king and queen, the brat of a prince, himself… and the war, it was easy for him to avoid needing to bring himself down to that level of submission to the throne.

She was like a fine sheet of paper to him a first, she hadn’t been hurt yet, she’d ever seen the utter and vile darkness of horror that was the world. She was from the north, a place he’d heard was so far and different that it hardly seemed like a part of the Seven Kingdom. They had different customs and ways of doing things, she’d likely never been subjected to anything close to what Gendry had. She was a lady from the moment she was born, no matter how little she seemed like one, Gendry knew, better than anyone, that she was still not the same as him and would never be it no matter how much she tried to convince him otherwise.

Gendry ran for more than the reason he told her and then some. He was a coward, yes, but he also had obligations to lord Stark now that he needed to prioritise. He’d told her the truth, somewhat, what he could muster at least. It was the truth that Gendry didn’t know her fathers reasons for asking him about his mother. Still based on his own previous experiences he had his theories about the honorable lord, and if they were true he could already think of the outcome. Everyone knew Gendry was a bastard, it wasn't a secret, he was pretty sure every soul in King’s Landing was there when he not only was ripped away from the shop and pulled through the streets, but presented to the people as the a new lord. However, the last time someone asked him about his mother their lives ended soon after.

Before the incident Gendry thought nothing of his mother, she was a brothel whore and he was separated from her pretty early on so she was likely dead now. It had only been him and the king that knew of her, and that's assuming king Robert remembered who he’d fucked and he didn’t exactly give Gendry that impression. So when a nobel man asks him about her and dies a few days later he obviously can’t help but link them together.

The queen’s lack of fake smiles and gross pleasantries after their death was the main reason for his suspicion. The lion queen had never liked him, in fact, could she kill him she would’ve done it without hesitation. However she had at least managed to hold up a mask when she saw him beforehand, given that it was her fault that he was even there to begin with in a way.

It was a relief when he finally got back to Storm’s End, he was instantly met with men grasping for attention to matters Gendry believed could wait but his own incompetence didn’t allow him to leave it. Arya was tired and had trouble adjusting to standing on the firm ground, so he took the chance to use her as an excuse to catch his own breath before having to turn back into his role as the lord of his own castle. He wasn’t as tired as she was since he’d slept a lot on the ship, and the men on the ship were still a bit uncomfortable when he was around, so he had plenty of time to catch up on some sleep, so he didn't mind staying awake and work through the night. 

Arya kept surprising him in her own small ways, the first one was when he saw her sneaking over the grounds towards the stables, dressed up in the most peculiar way. His work shirt and her pure white garment as well as large boots she hadn’t even bothered to tie. He followed her quietly until she stopped at his stallion. Coal wasn't very comfortable with strangers unless Gendry was around, so for him to just let Arya touch him without a care in the world had Gendry puzzled even if it did peak his interest as well.

He could tell she was still uncomfortable with him around, and he couldn’t blame her, but she had still been the one to go up to his horse, so he felt kind of excused for having startled her. He tried to loosen up a bit, and her flustered face was somewhat enjoyable which helped him along, seeing her so uptight made even Gendry tense and he figured that if they were supposed to be bound together forever he might as well make an effort to make her somewhat comfortable. Giving her Coal for the day seemed to have been the right call, and the smile his words put on her lips caused a shower of relief to run over him.

That same night Gendry was on the brink of collapsing when he walked down the dark halls of the castle, heading toward his chambers having forgotten Arya was even his wife and didn’t think twice about it before he saw her small figure sitting on his bed. Her eyes were wide and deer-like when they walked over to him, and Gendry really couldn’t think of a better moment to turn around and leave then and there. Still he was too drained to argue with her when she forced him to bed, and he was long gone into his sleep and hardly registered her sitting behind him, digging holes in his eyes with her blank stares, but he knew she was still scared around him.  

That night Gendry felt as if his soul had left his body, everything was heavy around him and for once he had a solid night's sleep. It wasn’t peaceful though, for his brain was in turmoil, bringing him places he didn’t wish to see again and reminding of things he wish he could simply forget. Alas they were a part of him, and they continued to haunt him no matter how much he tried to ignore them, and it was only when he could hardly feel himself breathing that he woke up. The light worked as an eraser that cleared his mind completely from the faces that seemed to follow him around in his sleep, he couldn’t really shake the dream off him until Arya seemed to speak up.

Now he was looking out over the sunset from the walls of Storm’s End, the braziers already lit as the sun sunk beneath the waters. About four days had passed since Arya’s attempt to persuade him about the sons of the fair fields farmers. Gendry had been too busy to hold an audience with them since, and give them his final decision, which was what he’d told Davos to tell them since, in truth, he really didn’t know what to do.

Well he did. He knew that Arya was right, his choice should not rely on his personal opinion and nor should he show favoritism, even if he was allowed to do so. In reality he didn’t have to answer to no one other than the king but he wasn’t really involved in this. If Gendry chose to legitimise the bastard, he could do that. If he wanted to kill the bastard and throw the body into the darkest hole of the shipbreakers bay, he could do that.

The problem was precautions. It was to ensure the lands future and in extension his own future, so in a way he really wasn’t doing what was best for the lands, he was doing what was best for himself. It was all just to save his own neck. While that really shouldn’t be news to him, given that it had been his only concern in life before. He couldn’t help but still cling onto that ignorant child in himself that would look up to the tall spires of the Red Keep from his bed at night, and believe that whoever sat up there on the throne had nothing but the best interest for him and the rest of the poor shits in King’s Landing.

That was what he thought a lord was, someone who worked for the people, someone who listened and cared. He obviously woke up from that idea long ago, and now that he was a lord himself he found himself laughing at his own irony. He had become a target for his own anger, and it would only continue to grow as time went on and he continued to lean the truth about this job and what followed that title. This situation was one such truth, and Gendry couldn’t run from it, and neither could he find a solution that would satisfy him.  

He heard the firm steps approaching him and letting out a heavy sigh Davos came up next to Gendry, his hands firmly pressed against his back. “Thought I’d find you here, you should know that it is the guards job to keep watch.” He attempted to lighten up the dark mood surrounding Gendry as he kept his attention on the darkening clouds forming on the horizon and the waves increasing breath as the wind grew stronger.

“There’ll be a storm, they’ll keep watch from within the wall tonight.” He mumbled and Davos nodded, “Yes, we’ve been lucky it seems, apparently it’s been two weeks since the last storm… maybe the gods are trying to make up for something.”

Gendry shrugged, storms were frequent here, everything was always strapped down since there were so unpredictable. “Yes, the other gods forbid they actually did anything productive with their magical powers.” Gendry spat.  

Davos frowned regretful before nodding slowly, “I take it that you still haven’t made up your mind then?” “Of course I fucking haven’t, but it should be so easy to right? I just have to ruin a man's life and crush his only chance of acceptance.” Gendry stated, mockery spilling from his tongue as he tightened the hold he had around his chest.

“You-” As if already knowing what he was going to say Gendry cut him off firmly, “I know what I'm _supposed_ to do, ‘aight? I know! I knew before you and her came and spelled it out for me, it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Davos held his breath in his chest, and Gendry could feel the melancholy look seep into the side of his face. Gendry didn’t need the pity, he really didn’t, if they thought it was so damn easy to do they were welcome to have his job. “I know it isn’t easy for you lad, I understand where you’re coming from, and I promised you I’d help you become... better… but not everything can be solved the way we want it to.”

“You really don’t think I'm aware of that? That isn’t the problem, I’m just…-” Gendry held that thought for a second, the feeling in his chest tightening once more. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, he could, the whole; every man for themselves, was ingrained in him deeper than anything else in him. He’d killed men for selfish reasons, denying a man a wish should be nothing to him.

No, the problem was the fact that in his mind he wasn’t worthy of making that choice. He was still a bastard, and for a bastard to choose for another bastard just seemed… cruel and disgusting to him. In truth it was more of a conflict between himself than it was about the farmer boys, he was simply too stubborn to slap himself in the face and get over it. The bastard in him spat at him whenever he thought it through, calling him a disappointment and a vile creature as well as every other curse word he’d picked up from the slums. He was more concerned about letting himself down than two strangers really.

“-... rather pathetic really.” he breathed before rolling his shoulder and looking to Davos who frowned at his words but didn’t really reply, he simply snorted when Gendry planted a hand on his shoulder and patted him firmly, “The storm is getting closer, I should get Coal inside for tonight.” he let the corner of his mouth lift up slightly, before heading down from the wall, thunder looming behind him as the sun let the last of it’s red rays run over the waters.

Gendry didn’t exactly sleep that night, he faked it until he noticed Arya’s breath turning slow and her body going still underneath her mountain of furs. Gendry had let her take all the furs she found necessary to sleep, figuring it was a way of protecting herself from him. He didn’t mind it, she could have all the furs she wanted to if it meant she was comfortable, and was able to get some sleep. Although he couldn’t really fathom how she was able to breath beneath it, he himself could barely sleep underneath his cotton blanket without feeling clammy and held down.

He was wide awake, and sat at his desk when she started to rustle underneath her mountain, soft murmurs escaping the thick layer until a foot made its way out and went limp. He sat and observed her quietly as she woke up, although it had only been a week since they  started sharing the room he’d already learned a lot about her. One of those things was that she wasn’t a morning person, in fact she hated them. Having heard her breathe curse words when she was being forced awake by the sun or of the servants that came to wake up Gendry at the break of dawn.

Normally he wouldn’t get to see her wake up, so he didn’t know how bad it was in terms of being able to push herself out of the bed. He continued to focus on reading the morning reports from the storm last night, that really hadn’t been as bad as Davos expected it to be. A few more moments passed before Gendry noticed the time and decided to head out, for some fresh air before the audience. The chair scraped loudly against the floors when he pushed it back firmer than he’d meant to, and gritting his teeth his eyes went over to the lump of furs that started to shift until Arya’s brown mess of a hair peaked out from underneath the mesh of fluff.

Her cheek still pressed firmly into his side the mattress her eyes clouded with sleep as she blinked over at him with eyes that barely seemed to really see him clearly. She wiggled her nose slightly before sighing to herself and pushed herself up, “My lord why-” Her voice was dry and raspy and she let out a couch as the words scraped against her throat. “- I mean good morning.” She corrected herself, attempting to sound a bit more appealing by making making her tone higher, but it was very obvious that she was forcing herself.

“Good morning M’lady, sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” He mumbled softly as he cleared up his desk. Her eyes went to the windows, before looking back over at him, “Isn’t it a bit early for the audience? The sun’s barely up.”

“It is, I asked Davos to change the time of the meeting yesterday… to get it over with I guess.” He spoke up, his deep voice echoing around in the room and reaching her still sensitive ears as she shot him a saddened look. “You’ll be alright?” She then asked, pushing herself further out of the furs.

Her question send a shiver down his spine, but he nodded nonetheless, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” He asked kind of rhetorical but she answered him anyways, her tone clearer and sounding strangely concerned, which he wasn’t so sure he liked. He had enough people sounding like that around him. “You’ve been avoiding it for over a week, most lords would’ve simply given their reply in a letter the next day, yet, you insist on telling them yourself…”

Gendry sighed deeply and looked over at her, “You don’t think I owe them at least that much?” She shrugged, “I think that at this point they owe you more than you do. No lord would’ve given this as such attention as you have done.”

He held back a snort, he couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not, and he ran his hand over the back of his head, “I don't owe them to do my job and listen to the people I'm supposed to care for? Since when did my job description change from that to just a warmonger for the king?”

Arya shot him a strange frown, as she pulled herself out of bed and grabbed her usual clothing, before starting to dress herself, seemingly not able to respond to him before she finished tying up the front and started to brush her hands through her tangled hair and walked over to Gendry, a rather firm look in her eyes. “You are a strange man my lord.” She said as she came to a stop in front of him, her large grey eyes searching through his as she finished tying up her hair, letting her arms fall to her sides.

Gendry blinked at her rather impassively, letting her find whatever it was she wanted to. He wasn’t sure what she meant, and he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not, as her frown still stuck to her brows and her eyes didn’t make anything obvious. “I'm glad, we have something in common then.” He breathed lowly before taking a step backwards and looking over her dress. He’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t like her in dresses, it strangely didn’t suit her, maybe it was her hight or her posture, but she always looked like she was being swallowed by the fabric, and she clearly didn’t enjoy it herself.

She seemed to notice his examining frown and cleared her throat to regain his attention, “Is it improper of me to show up wearing the same dress do you think?” She asked carrying a slight sound of shame in her question, and Gendry titled his head slightly before raising a brow at her.  

“You’ll be joining me?”

She responded with a slight nod as she looked down at her rather overused dress, “If I'm allowed to, I…-” She held her tongue for a second before looking up at him rather curiously, “-...I’d like to see you work.” She shot him the lightest smile he’d seen from her, it was coated with a teasing feeling to it with a hint of sincerity which gave him a put off feeling since it wasn’t everyday he saw that.

He chuckled lowly before replying the same smile, “If that's what you want, who am I to stop you M’lady?”

\--

Arya hid a deep yawn from her lungs as they walked down the halls, she was still very tired and her skin had barely dried from the water she’d used to wake herself with. She walked a step behind Gendry, watching his shoulder as they rolled uncomfortably from the tight leathers. Strangely she’d started to find her husband rather humorous to watch from the sidelines, it struck the same feeling in her to look at him as it gave her when she had spend her time observing the fish in the lake by the heart tree back home. Fascinating.

For four days she’d watched him silently, and taking in his behaviour in the nights after he returned from a day's work. She could tell that their conversation had bothered him, and even if he didn’t seem angry with her she still felt like the bad guy for having brought it up. She didn’t blame him for finding the choice hard, but she hadn’t expected it to weigh him down as much as it did which was why she really wanted to see the end of this.

They walked in and Davos fulfilled their presentation of the two of them, Gendry’s titles almost double the length of hers. She still weren’t used to it, but it seemed like he didn’t mind that it took forever.  They sat down by the table and Gendry watched the two sons with a firm and determined look in his clear blue eyes. It was a new look she’d never seen, close to the one he’d given the guard a few days ago, but this one didn’t feel as threatening as that one.

Unlike the time Arya had spoken with the two sons, this time neither of them dared to look straight up at him, their eyes locked straight ahead of them. It was silent for a moment before sighed and leaned back in seat and cleared his throat, “I’m sure you both know why we’re here today so I won't waste your time any further…” He rolled his neck loosely and Arya watched him carefully from the corner of her eyes, his way of approaching this was so different from her father's. Normally a lord would puff up like a bird when they wanted to make something clear, her father did it, Robb did it, even the king did it.

“... I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll deny farmer Carlson's request of legitimation. In extension of that making the true born son of farmer Carlson the heir to the farm with my expectation that he be wed within the first week of his ownership and a tax of fifty kilos of grain on top of his already set taxes…-” Gendry began loosely, watching the two sons closely as he spoke.

As did Arya, and the contrast between the two sons expression had been was she expected it. Simons eyes finally met with his lords, his chin rising for the first time and a grateful gleam to his eyes. James eyes also met with Gendry’s although filled with hate and disbelief towards his lord, his hands turned into fists at his side and his shoulders hunched forward.

“-As for you-” Gendry began turning his attention to James, with the same calm demeanor as he met his stare head on. “-You will have two choices, you can either stay with your brother and serve him as you have your father, but you will father no children, and should you do so anyways, be sentenced to immediate death. Your other choice is to be send to the wall in the north and serve at castle black with my promise that you will be safely escorted up there.” He finished, not a hint of the remorse he had been carrying throughout the days, almost making even Arya feel pity for the bastard son.

Her ears caught the low sneering of the son her eyes narrowing at him as he stepped forward toward their table. “My lord,I-I don't understand why are you doing this? On what basis are you making this decision…” Gendry frowned at james objections, “I'm making this decision on the basic of my lack of belief in your ability to deliver to this castle. You have only five years of experience in this field, and from what I know your father hasn’t spend those five years teaching you with the intent that you should be his heir.”

“But his wish to-” James started out, and finally Gendry started to lean forward in his seat, his eyes hardening as he glared down onto the tall son.

“Your father's wishes are irrelevant to this discussion I'm afraid. I understand your plead, however, It’s _not_ my job to clean up a dying man's regrets, if he hates having his bastard son on his conscience, then he shouldn’t have been unfaithful to begin with.”Gendry stated a strange chill in his voice, so cold it even send a shiver down Arya’s spine and she had to restrain herself so she wouldn’t snap her neck when she turned to him, looking over at him in shock as he used her words.

He was tense, but he didn’t let it show on his face how much it took in him to say it. His knuckles were white and finger tips red as he squeezed his hands tighter, the blood in his veins visibly pulsating in his wrists. She could tell he didn’t want to phrase it that way since he had in doing so he really was being more cruel to himself than he was james.

James seemed to notice that arguing with Gendry was a lost cause, so he looked over to Arya, calling out to her as he had done Gendry, “My lady, please you have to make him understand I-” Arya looked to the begging man with surprise still spread over her face, not expecting to be brought into the conversation. He didn’t get the chance to do so however as Gendry snapped next to her, his fist slamming firmly into the table like a hammer causing everyone in the room to flinch and stiffen in their spot.

Arya’s eyes flew back to Gendry whose face had only darkened as he shot a murderous look toward the bastard son, his jaw clenched and his chest hunched over the dark wooden table as he spoke up in a low and threatening tone. “You dare ignore me and search for mercy from her. You will keep your attention here and you’ll speak only to me if you wish to plead, understood?” Gendry finished and hammed his fist into the table once again when James eyes attempted to waver back to Arya, the sound sending a shock through her chest.  

He leaned back into his seat slowly, making sure both of the sons kept their eyes on him and cleared his throat lightly before looking over to Davos, “My decision is final, there’ll be no further discussion…are the papers ready?” Davos nodded silently before pulling out a scroll and handed it to Gendry who wasted no time looking over it before signing it. “Get them out.” He muttered to Davos who took the document before leading the two sons out of the hall, shutting the large door behind them when they had exited.

Gendry breathed out deeply as he let his head back back, his large hands covering his face as he let out an exhausted groan. Arya blinked as she snapped out of her trance like state from the shock of his out roar, shivering lightly as she looked over at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He mumbled as he tilted his head her way, watching her still wavering eyes with his calm ones. She was quick to shake the last bit of tension off her and shook her head slowly so he wouldn’t notice it having an effect on her, “You didn’t scare me, it just… caught me off guard is all.” She wrinkled her brows at her own words, she wasn’t even sure if that was the word to describe what she was feeling, but it was a good summary of it at least.

“Yes, but still I’ll apologise, I didn’t mean to snap the way that I did.”

“I'm not easily frightened my lord, you will have to do worse than that if you wish to scare me.” She stated and caught sight of Gendry’s light expression as he pulled his head back up and nodded in agreement, “Yes so I’ve noticed, it’s the fewest women that’ll still argue with a spear at their throats.”

She felt pride as she took his word as a compliment, and straightened her back slightly before speaking up again. “You definitely left an impression on the two of them, so you must have achieved what you wanted.” she breathed softly which dropped as his brows slanted into a frown and he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Even I have my limits M’lady, while I may not have wanted this outcome doesn’t mean I’ll let people step over me as they see fit… and especially not you.“ Gendry said simply as he looked out over the now empty floors, looking at the long rays of light as they cast their bright light over the dark cliff stone.

Arya couldn’t help find herself grateful, a warm feeling making it’s way up her spine as she evaded his figure with her eyes. Suddenly feeling strange when she realised what she was doing and swallowed it down again before speaking up, “It was nothing compared to the previous day, should’ve heard him, called me a northern beauty.” She laughed softly as she thought about the pathetic attempt of a compliment.

Gendry rose a askanced look over at her, and smirked at her comment, “You’re selling yourself short M’lady.” She narrowed her eyes teasingly at him, “Oh I am now? You saw my sister, yet you are telling me I'm selling myself short.” Gendry shrugged, “To each their own I suppose, but yes now that you say it, I did see her.”

“And? Found her beautiful right? That's a true northern beauty.” Arya stated, not really bitter about it, it was just plain and simply true, “Sure, but there are bunch of pretty faces around king’s landing, she wouldn’t really stick out if it wasn’t for her red hair I don't think.” Arya wiggled her nose in thought, she didn’t think that was the case. Sansa was the prettiest person she knew hair color or not, but then again she wasn’t a man and didn’t understand their perception of beauty… she hardly knew her own.

“Are you implying that I would?” She asked slightly amused, but he just wiggled head in thought before shaking his head, “Not in the same way I don't think.” He said and Arya grew perplexed, “What do you mean? What else would make me stand out?” “Lots of reasons M’lady, but primarily your high I think, you are incredibly small.” He gazed at her from the corner of his eyes and smirked at the way her face twisted into a scuff.

“My hight? You haven't considered that maybe you are just obnoxiously tall?” She stated and Gendry nodded, “Heard it once or twice before yes…” He responded with a kind hearted look in his eyes, and Arya was glad that he was already in a lighter mood.

“Will you be busy today my lord?” She changed the subject her hand resting underneath her chin as she silently thought about all the nothing she would probably experience that day. “No, don’t think I will be… I’ll need to take Coal out for a run today actually.-” He said and she must’ve made her envy very obvious on her face because he turned to her suddenly with his own hand pressed firmly into his cheek as he attempted to catch her empty stare, “-Would you like to come with me? I don't believe you’ve gotten a proper tour of the land yet either.”

Arya blinked up at him in doubt, “Come with you? I’ve already been out onto the fields.”

Gendry chuckled, “I usually go a bit further than that.” and his words peaked Arya’s curiosity, “How much further?”

“How much further do you want me to take you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you enjoyed a sneakpeak into Gendry's head in his chapter, it doesn't go that deep but I figured I wanted to start out small, but I'll definitely do it again.
> 
> also its very late when this is going up, so if there are a lot more mistakes in this... ignore them, cuz I'll fix them later.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (edit: updated 11-08-19)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a lot of swearing in the first half of this one, for reasons you'll see, so if you didn't read the rating on this story and don't like that... I don't know what to tell you. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Gendry sighed heavily he opened up the door of the library, Davos following closely behind him and shutting the door behind them. “You’ll tell her then?” He said as Gendry poured up a large cup of wine and gulped it out as fast as he could to kill off the bland taste in the back of his throat. “Of course I will, I can’t _not_   tell her. I just don't understand why the fuck I'm only hearing about it now!” He cursed as he slammed the cup into the table, sneering at Davos who stood calmly a few steps away from his lord. 

“Because I knew you’d react this way.” He sighed, “So you waited until I’d felt the castle to tell me something that _required_ me to be there? Does that even make sense to you?” Gendry spoke before gulping down another cup and Davos shot him a firm look of disappointment. 

About a week had passed since the situation with the sons of the far fields, and Gendry had left Storm's End a few days ago to settle some agreements at Bronzegate, leaving Arya behind to take care of the castle. It was late in evening and Davos had taken the chance to pull Gendry aside from the meetings to hand him a message from the crown city. “Do you think I wanted to wait this long? I would’ve shared it with you a bit sooner, had your head not been elsewhere-.” 

“Sooner? You mean you’ve had this information in your pocket and you didn’t tell me, are you serious?!” Gendry interrupted, his hand clenching around the small piece of paper and running a hand over his face as he stared at it. “Yes I am, and you acting out like this certifies my beliefs in that I made the right choice to do so.” Davos explained slowly as Gendry let out a frustrated groan.  

“You’re aware what this means right? I means _fucking war Davos!_ And not just some stupid war I'm-we’re involved in this!”

“Indeed we are, very deeply involved in fact, but so are many others and with your connection to house Stark and the crown it’ll be…” Davos’ words fade out as he watched Gendry start pacing in a state of panic, muttering words of regret and anger under his breath. “I never should’ve left, it was fucking stupid, _I’m_ fucking stupid. Should’ve stayed. What am I going to do…” 

“- Gendry!”  Davos piped up causing Gendry to flinch in his spot before jolting his head back at Davos, “What! I'm aware of that alright! I know the fucking connections I have, I don't care about them right now, I have bloody murder on my hands!” 

Davos let out a heavy sigh as he sat down into a chair in the corner, “You haven’t murdered anybody lad, and this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out this way.” He explained calmly, but Gendry wasn’t having it. “Known about it? I left the bloody city because I knew what would happen!” 

“ _No you didn’t_ , you left the city based on what you _thought_ would happen if you didn’t, and you made the right choice… you had lady Stark to take care of just as you do now, what another man chooses to do has nothing to do with what _you_ do… you needed to take care of yourself.” Davos explained, trying to settle Gendry as he seemed to have trouble grasping the situation at hand as he read over the paper once more. 

“A speculation that seemed to have become true… one I shouldn't've taken the chances with when I know why it happened.” Gendry muttered before Davos came up and ripped the letter out of his hands, “But you didn’t know why, _no one did_ , why did you think it happened? Because he poked his nose in places he shouldn’t have lad, that's why.” 

“I should’ve known why. I should’ve figure it out as soon as he asked… _I_ should’ve been the first to figure this out” Gendry protested his heart pounding hard in his chest as it filled itself with anguish. “If it was that easy to do lad I can assure you that this wouldn’t have happened the way that it did, nor the cause the commotion it does.” 

“The king is dead, Davos… Lord Stark is _dead!_ Of course it’s causing a fucking commotion!” 

“Yes they are dead, M’lord, not only are they dead but they died at the royal wedding. The same wedding littlefinger required our men to attend to, and based on _this_ lad… it was not in Lord Stark’s favor, as you expected it not to be… You’re forgetting why we left to begin with, it was _because_ we wouldn’t’ve been able to prevent an outcome that wouldn't mean the sudden doom of house Baratheon and get you, as well as Lady Stark, _Killed as well_.” Davos explained holding up the now creased letter as he tried to force it into the distressed and angered skull of Gendry. 

“And what if that was wrong of me to do? What if I could’ve turned it around in some way I…-” Gendry spoke slowly, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably before Davos placed a heavy hand on him to get him to stop. “You couldn’t’ve prevented it lad, no one could, by the time we found out it had already spun too far out of control. You said it yourself, no matter what you did it would’ve ended poorly for you, running was a smart thing to do.” 

“I could’ve protected him.” Gendry breathed exhaustedly. 

 “And so what if you did, say he lives, that doesn’t mean he’s safe, and neither are you. If what he says is true, your life would be in danger from being the only legitimate son of king Robert, and they wouldn’t stop before they have your head as well to cover it all up.” Davos said finally and Gendy nudged himself free from the old man's grasp and walked over to the window, planting his head against the hard stone. 

“I should’ve just kept my mouth shut when he asked all those questions.” He mumbled, but not low enough for it to pass Davos’s ears, “Perhaps, but it still doesn’t make it your fault… it’s cruel to say so, but it’s lord Stark’s own fault for having pursued with the idea that he could do this without consequences.” 

Gendry closed his eyes, trying to focus on what Davos was telling him, but his mind kept circling back to his own incompetence. A part of him understood what Davos was telling him, it made sense, and in any other case he wouldn’t have been as bothered by it as he was. However, Gendry couldn’t shake the weight it put on him as he thought about the fact that he would have to tell Arya that her father was murdered as consequences for his actions. 

Gendry knew Arya enough by now to know that she wouldn’t take something like that with a merciful heart, in fact saying it like that to her would probably earn him a worse beating that he could ever lay upon himself. Then again, he could really use one right at that moment, since drinking wouldn’t be enough to kill down what he was feeling. He needed the pain to become physical to distract himself from the mental pain it inflicted upon him. 

“Are you hiding anything else from me while we’re at it?” Gendry muttered, opening his eyes and stared out over the open plains. “No M’lord.” 

“Good, then tell Ser Humwell he’s in luck, and that I’ll be returning to Storm’s End at once...but our conversation won't be forgotten.” Gendry turned back to Davos before grabbing the letter from the old man's hand, and his coat from the bed and heading out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

He left Bronzegate without Davos, not willing to wait around for him to finish up what he needed to do. Gendry needed to get back before his head imploded, and he went insane with the amount of thoughts running through his mind. He was able to get back in time for the sun to start rising, calling in the new day as well a cool wind from the south. He returned unannounced, which caused the servants around the ground to stare at him in a panic as he called upon the first guard he could find and asked for Arya’s whereabouts. He wasted little time when he was told she was presumingly in the back balcony of the castle, a place she seemed to have found a day she was wandering around the castle.  

He paused a few steps away from the balcony where he calmed his breath, not making  his stress too obvious right from the get go. He saw her move around, doing what looked like a dance but still far from it. He noticed a change in her clothing and assumed she finally gotten the leathers Davos told him he would get her. He was able to stand and watch quietly for a moment, and appreciate how free she seemed to feel, her face focused and unaware of her surroundings as she made sure her form was perfect.  

It sent a uncomfortable swirl in his stomach as he was reminded of the reason he was there to begin with, and the fact that he was the one to wipe away that look on her face only made him drenched with guilt again. 

“Call me uncultured, but I don't see how dancing in the cold helps the castle M’lady.” Gendry spoke up, forcing on a smirk as he approached her, stopping at the entrance where he was met with the chill of the morning breeze. 

Arya flinched in her spot and dropped down her arms, her eyes wide in shock as she spun her head to meet his gaze. “You’re back?” She said quietly, her flustered hands moving to remove an strand of hair from her face, which earned a sincere chuckle from Gendry who walked closer, stopping a few steps away from her. 

“Seems so.” 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back before next week.” Arya said looking up at him with a undertone of confusion and Gendry rubbed his neck when he felt cold sweat make it’s way up his spine.  

“That was the plan but… I was needed elsewhere.” He said slowly, and suddenly the courage he’d build up was crushed by a single twitch by her nose and a slight frown forming on her brows. He really couldn’t tell her right away as he thought, but the knot in his stomach only tightened the longer he pushed it. “I didn’t take you for a dancer.” He suddenly blurred out crossing his arms over his chest and watched when Arya’s eyes suddenly waver away from his in embarrassment. 

“I-I'm not, It’s...it’s not _that_ kind of dancing. It’s called water dancing, a Braavosi type… fighting technique.” She said starting out rather self-assured which at one point in her sentence turned into an embarrassment with a hint of uncertainty and hesitancy, taking only one unsure glance up at him to see his reaction. Gendry honestly wasn’t sure why though, he was more intrigued and impressed that she knew about such a style, which ,to him, was rather unheard of. 

“You’ve been to Bravos M’lady?” He simply asked, to which she blinked up at him with a sudden change of heart before shaking her head, “No, but I found a scroll back home mentioning it as well as descriptions and I just picked it up.” 

“So then, how do you know you’re doing it right?” Gendry asked a bit confused, to which she shrugged, “I don't… but I have won more times than I have lost so I can’t be that bad.” she stated and Gendry scratched his jaw in thought before speaking up, “I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I’ve seen the word Bravos before in the library, but I never looked it up so I wouldn’t know about it, but you can pick it up if you like.” 

Arya’s gaze suddenly turned suspicious as her grey eyes narrowed down firmly into his, which strangely made him panic, had she already figure him out? He hadn’t even said anything. Was it that obvious on his face? He started to question himself, but Arya only rose her brow at him, “Thank you, I will then…” She muttered, twirling her thumbs in front of her, and strangely Gendry was filled with relief, before looking down at her and tilting his head, “You’ve gotten new leathers as well I see.” 

Her suspicion seemed to melt away at his comment and she took a step backwards and looked down at herself, “Yes, it was mostly Davos’s idea, but since he was away I got to do it as I like… while still fulfilling the requirements of course.” She said in a lighter tone. 

Her new outfit suited her. It was dark with a grey shirt peeking up at her collar where the rest of it was covered with a black leather jacket and a brown leather corset that hugged her stomach, a pair of black matching pants and brown riding boots that finally seemed to fit her. Grendy found it fitting to her character, and so long as she was comfortable he didn’t care what she wore, and she didn’t seem to either. 

“I do have a cape that matches as well as a warmer change… oh yes, and this-” she said nudging the silver Baratheon sigil pin by her shoulder, “-They said it was of utmost importance that I wore this… apparently.” She spoke up as she let it go, and suddenly Gendry wanted to rip it off her of throw it into the sea below them. 

It was disgusting to him for that split second she touched it. She wore his sigil, a thing he should feel proud off, but he couldn’t. His mind was pent up on the letter, on the fact that lord Stark was dead and that it was his fault that he couldn’t prevent it. He didn’t want her to wear it because it tied her to him and his _fucking_ name, this name she didn’t ask for, and the name he was forced to carry. She was his responsibility now, and whatever he did would automatically involve her which made this war all the harder for him to think about. 

He hadn’t thought about it for long, and while it seemed obvious to him that he was to betray the crown lands and fight against them for what they have done, he couldn’t do it since from a military perspektive it would simply be stupid. He was still an incompetent lord, and while he knew that the storm lords would pledge themselves to his name… that didn’t mean they would to him. It was disgusting that she was forced to stand next to a person like him. 

“My lord?” Arya sudden spoke up, breaking the hard melancholy stare Gendry had fixed on the pin. He realised then that even her calling him that brought a vile taste in his mouth and he shook his attention back to her, who seemed to have noticed his lack of attention. 

“It… suits you, M’lady.” He muttered and suddenly he couldn’t take the nauseating swirl in his stomach when she tilted her head slightly and looked up at him, “Are you okay? You’re pale looking, and…. sweating… are you sure you’re feeling alright?” she asked with a undertone of concern as she looked him up and down, searching for the possible source for his sudden change. 

Gendry himself was rather oblivious to his own appearance and the fact that nervous sweat only seemed to soak his whole back. He was fixated on her face, trying to open his throat and say the things that was occupying his mind to the point of insanity, “I'm so sorry.” He breathed deeply and he had to close his eyes to make sure he was able to inhale and let the air run into his lungs again.

“Sorry? What for?” Arya strangely chuckled, properly unsure how to react to his change, not to say confused by it.Iif only she was aware of how much more pain she was inflicting upon him in doing so. 

“What I told you on the ship… about the reason we left, about… your father I-... I didn’t expect-” Gendry had to stop himself before his mind wandered off to far from him to catch it, and the more he spoke the deeper the frown on Arya’s brows got, and the more of her previous light gaze seemed to harden at the mention of her father.

“What are you talking about?” She asked cautiously, and Gendry couldn’t seem to find a way to respond to it, and simply handed her the letter he’d hid in his inner pocket and went quiet. She read it once, then twice more after that, and by the fifth time Gendry had to step away from her, walking over to the lean against the railing preventing him from walking off the castle and into the rushing waves below them. 

She was unbelievably quiet, and every moment until her gasp seemed to stab Gendry in the back when he couldn’t know what was going through her head. He could hardly imagine it in fact. She killed off a choking sound in her throat, but Gendry was rather attentive to it so he head it and waited until she spoke up to exhale.

 “Is this why you came back?”

Arya was quite audibly shaken, and she seemed to fight a break in her hard tone and Gendry breathed out as the knife in his back was finally pulled out as well as the knot in his stomach loosened. “Yes.” He said slowly, still keeping his eyes in front of him. 

“How long did you know?” 

“Found out yesterday.” 

He heard her kill off a sob in her throat again and it took everything in him not to jump off the castle then and there. Hurting her was the one thing he didn’t wish to do, she had gone through enough shit already and he didn’t wish to add onto that. So for him to have to make it all the worse made him almost reconsider accepting the penalty that would’ve followed him, had he stayed in the city. 

“Why…” she whispered under her breath, not meant for him to hear so he could only listen as she muttered to herself for a while. “M-My sister, what happened to Sansa?!” She suddenly panicked and Gendry turned back to face her when she stressed a topic he hadn’t even considered himself. Her cheeks were still dry, but tears were treating to fall, her large grey eyes already losing their natural light behind the redding waterline. 

“I...I don't know, the letter doesn’t say and I know nothing outside of what it tells us...But since she’d not mentioned, we can only assume she’s still alive.” Gendry said slowly, treading lightly with his words as she seemed to only breathe harder with each thought passing through her head. “Assuming isn’t good enough, I _need_ to know that she’s safe!” Arya rose her tone in an undirected anger that seemed to get to her the same way it had done Gendry back at Bronzegate. 

“I'm sorry, there’s a lot of things I wish to know as well, but I can’t give you the answers.” 

That much she seemed to understand, because she didn’t snap back at him, but only continued to curl in on herself as the restraint she was putting on herself seemed to start becoming too much for her. Her breath turning louder and her eyes being unable to focus on what was in front of her. It only truly started to cause worry to erupt in Gendry when her arms went to clung around her stomach and her knees lowered her closer to the ground. He stepped closer, his hand barely touching her, but lowering with her as a precaution should she fall. 

She seemed to notice his wish to help her, and while he could tell she didn’t want it, her hand suddenly clung to his right arm pulling down in his sleeve to gain balance. Her breathing getting the best of her as she started to hyperventilate rapidly, her eyes going wild as she stared down at the grown. She was dizzy enough already, and Gendry wasn’t about to stand around much longer. 

He bent down on one knee until his head was level with her and grabbed her limp left arm, swinging it over his shoulder before grabbing her thighs and lifting her up, her body barely reacting to the sudden force as her head fell into the crook of his neck and her cheek pressed firmly into his shoulder and her body went limp. Her breathing swirled in his right ear as he adjusted his grasp on her, and felt her heart pound hard against her chest as well as smell the sweat that clammed down her neck. 

He headed to their chamber, disregarding the calling for attention from the servants as he paced down the hall. His attention was only at two places, one was watching where he was going, where as the other was on Arya’s breathing over his shoulder which had slowerd in pace but not in volume. 

Gendry pushed open the door with his left shoulder, and kicked it shut with his right foot watching the lock fall into place before he rushed over to the bed. Placing one knee onto her side of the bed as he lowered himself and let go of her legs, using his one free hand to catch her head and the other one to unwrap her arm from his neck. 

She sunk into her furs, in hope that the feel of them would help calm her, but by the time he leaned back up she’d gone completely silent and fell into a deep sleep. Breathing out in relief Gendry took his time to watch over her in her finally still form, tears still only lingering in her lashes but the redness in her cheeks clear against the paleness of her skin. 

Gendry watched her with even more guilt in his eyes. He hadn’t even considered she would reacted this way, he’d been so set on anger that he seemed to have overlooked the sadness it would’ve brought her, and especially to this extent. He was relieved that he had managed to apologise to her before hand, even though he knew that he would probably need to continue to do that for the rest of his life by now if he was ever going to be able to sleep at night. 

He ran the back of his hand over her forehead, and wiped the sweat of her brow before pulling himself off the bed in an attempt to distract himself from the darkening thoughts growing in the back of his mind.

- 

Arya felt her head throb as her body stirred, her eyes burning as she forced them open, her waterline seemingly glued together with dried tears. She couldn’t move her body, she didn’t have the energy to do so nor the will. She lazily laid and stared up into the familiar ceiling of her bed chamber, trying to gather her thoughts as to how she got there. 

She remembered the balcony, her training, then Gendry… then the letter and it all seemed to come rushing back in her mind. She could suddenly recall each and every curve of the letters and what they were saying, she remembered what it meant and what she thought of it. Her blood ran cold and she suddenly wished she could cling onto the warmth from her dream, her hands settling deeper into her furs. 

Her father was dead. Murdered, killed, executed  or whatever word they used to describe it, it all meant the same to her, he was gone nonetheless, and she was unable to do anything about it. She didn’t think it was possible at first, in fact she thought Gendry was pulling a prank on her, but he didn’t lie to her… mostly because she knew he wasn’t able to, but also because the grief that filled his eyes in the moment had practically spelled it out to her. 

She suddenly wanted to throw up, if it didn’t mean she couldn’t, having not even eaten breakfast that morning. Her thoughts wouldn’t gather and without her knowing she felt her head go heavy once again and her eyes rolled back into her head and darkness filled her head once more, her thought going quiet once more. 

It was a jolt of fear that ultimately woke her up, a lighting-like shock shaking her awake and she sat up in the bed, the blood rushing from her head and making her vision blurry as well as causing a loud ringing in her ear to ring as she blindly moved her hands over the bed, only stopping when she found a source of warmth wrapping itself around her fingers. 

The ringing was eventually switched out with the sound of Gendry gently calling out to her, the sound of his exhausted rasp calming her until her vision slowly returned to her. The blur eventually began fading out and allowing her to see her bare feet in front her, and the fireplace burning in the background. 

she sat and blinked quietly for a while, Gendry turning silent himself when he noticed she’d awoken completely. “What-” She tried to speak, up her dry throat cut her short as a stinging plain prevented her from continuing. A cup of what looked like water was placed into her vision, and she gulped it out without hesitation, the refreshing water strangely clearing up her mind a bit. 

“You fainted.” She heard Gendry speak out slowly, having understood what she wanted to get across. 

She understood as much, but she strongly needed a confirmation since she’d fainted before, but hadn't felt as painful as this time. Still tired she let her head flop over to the side and looked to find Gendry’s face. While she did find it, it wasn’t what she expected it to be, his eyes were heavy and clouded, a sharp bruise running like a cut up his jaw and cheek, and he seemed uncomfortable as he leaned against his right arm giving his whole posture a slight slant. 

Something that was a slight relief to see however, was the fact that his face was back to it’s normal tanned tone and he didn’t seem as tense as he did before… probably because he’d gotten the words off his chest. “What happened to you?” She asked slowly, to which Gendry rubbed his cheek awkwardly and shrugged. 

“The windows…” He said simply, and Arya understood and let her eyes wander over to the windows where he’d probably stood for awhile, leaning against the sharp edge of the windowframe. The sun was still bright outside, although she could tell at it was long past noon, and she let out a deep sigh and looked back at Gendry who was quietly waiting for her. 

“It wasn’t a dream then?” She mumbled and Gendry retracted his hold on her fingers and walked back over to the fireplace where he threw on more wood and returned to the window, as if he’d never left it. “No…” He responded. 

It was a hit she had to take she supposed, she did ask after all, and she was also deadly aware of it in the first place just like before, she just wanted to hear it. Gendry cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything else, just let his head fall against the sharp cutting stone edge, letting him retract into his thoughts.

“How are you feeling?” She asked suddenly after a while, and while she didn’t expect it to, it did catch him off guard. He lifted his head from the wall and looked over at her, something unsure in his eyes as well as discomfort from her question. 

“Don't worry about me M’la-” 

“I-...do… I do worry.” She admitted, not meaning to interrupt him like that, but she didn’t want him to finish that sentence, knowing that she didn't need be feel even more uncomfortable by being called by her title name. Hugging her arms closer to herself she kept a waiting eye on him as he looked at her, taking in her words it seemed, before rolling his shoulders and relaxing his neck. 

“Admittedly I’ve been better if I'm being honest, but… I’ll be fine.” 

Arya pushed her knees further up to her chin, resting it on top of them as she watched him looking back out the window. She took his word for it, since it was plain obvious that it was bothering him, still he seemed to manage it better than she did given that he had essentially gotten the same information as her. King Robert was dead as well, his father, and based on what she’d observed over the course of the time she’d known him, she expected him to let it show a bit more if he truly hurt him.

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t allowing himself, granted he probably had a lot of other things occupying his mind at that moment. She’d read all of the letter and it carried more with it than what she’d focused on, but even a lord takes time to grieve the death of a family member so she found it to a weak excuse if that was the case. 

“So… what now?” She asked quietly, and Gendry narrowed his frown, the hold he had over his chest tightening, the question lingering a bit in his thoughts before he replied, “Now we prepare for war.” He breathed and the bitterness and sting in his words sent a shiver down her spine, like every other time he’d been angry.

“Who’s the enemy?” She asked.

Gendry got quiet, very quiet, not even his breath was caught by Arya’s ear. She wished she could hear what was going through his head in that moment, as he let himself slowly fill up with fury and rage. Arya found herself captivated by this side of him each time it showed, her heart pounding hard in her chest but it wasn’t out of fear, it was something else, she believed it to be admiration but it felt to obscure and foreign for it to be just that. 

Perhaps it was because he was so different from the side she’d come to know, the kind and gentle side he seemed to put up most of the time. Now the humored smile was washed off and turned into something empty, his eyes and jaw hardening as if he was holding something back, even his voice changed from it’s usual deep smooth coating, to a rough and hard cutting snarl. She favorited his usual and more laidback side, it was comfortable to speak to she found, but the other side was strangely exciting to be around as well. 

“The people who betray us.” he responded.

Arya bit down onto her lips, creating a thin line as she felt herself getting affected by the pure hatred in his tone, to the point where it even distracted her from her own sadness and she began to see red as well. Perhaps she was still being affected from the shock, or it was the lack of food that was making her dizzy, but she felt like she was catching a high from the amount her blood that seemed to boil underneath her skin. 

She suddenly wanted blood on her hands for the first time in her life. She wanted nothing more than to see the dying eyes of the people who murdered her father, wanting to watch them as they drew their last breath before her. She must have shivered by the mere thought because Gendry caught her staring gaze, his hollow blue eyes equaling hers in wrath, and while no words were being spoken she would read the promise they held in them. 

She would get what she wanted one day. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, remember to tell me your thoughts on this as always!
> 
> (edit: updated 11-08-19)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting and Power

The next few days Arya didn’t leave their bed, except to furtill her basic needs, although she seemed oblivious to her own body's needs most of the time, sleeping through most days without hardly moving. She only spoke to three people, Gendry, Davos and the servant that would come and give her her meals. Arya tended to restrain herself from eating most of them, only really eating in the evenings where Gendry would sit at the end of their bed and watch her until she finished all of the food on the plate. 

He checked up on her more often than he’d done in the past, and if he couldn’t do it he’d sent Davos for a quick check up. Arya wasn’t so sure why he felt the need to do so, it wasn’t like she was going to do anything if that was what he was worried about. She was simply tired and needed time to collect herself, and while it usually ended up with her getting a headache she’d ever so slowly begun to overcome the shock. 

She’d tried to understand what it was her father had set out to do, and why he felt the need to do so. One night Gendry had told her about the things her father had asked him, about his mother as well as the previous incident that had lead up to his suspicion. She thought it was weird as well when she first thought about it, and she’d be lying if she didn’t get a bit heated and blamed him for the rest of the night. However, the longer she thought it through, she realised that it was out of Gendry’s power to do anything about it, her father was known for his stubbornness but even more so for his loyalty and the amount of honor he held to his word. 

If Ned Stark heard anything that could potentially ruin his friends name, or scratch his name, was it in his will to do anything in his power to stop it. Even if it meant putting himself on the line for that purpose… he was too honorable to let things like that go. 

While he was gone now, Arya’s thoughts were primarily on her remaining family. She had dreams about Sansa, one where she escapes the city and runs back home to Winterfell, another where she was locked up in a celler with green liqud seeping down the walls. One where she was married to the prince… and the remaining one where she stood next to their father, both covered in their own blood on the sept floor.

Arya thought about her mother, and the tears she must be spilling when word finally reached them. She wondered if the hawk she’d sent ever reached her, and if so, which of the messages came first. Arya regretted suddenly that she’d kept her message so short, but at the same time she comforted herself by saying that something was better than nothing. 

She was left trapped in her own speculations, not ever going to get a clear answer to the questions that bothered her so much. 

Gendry had never really turned back to his usual self after the message of their father's death, he simply continued to carry a firm and deadpan expression whenever she saw him. His eyes either hollow, stern or heavy guilt, all accompanied with a lingering tired aura around him. She’d noticed that he didn’t get much sleep, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying, he just seemed unable to relax and shifted unusually much throughout the nights, until he simply gave up and left the room. 

In truth she hadn’t really asked what it was that had kept him busy, mostly due to her being asleep but also because he seemed to slip out of the room before she even got the opportunity to try. 

One night she woke up alone, her heart in her throat from the continuing nightmares, and as she sat up in the bed she suddenly didn’t want to be alone. All the other nights he’d always been there, as a reminder that she wasn’t alone in the darkness, his lazy breathing helping her to bring her own breath down into its rhythm. She grabbed her coat as well as a candle and headed out into the halls, heading down to the grounds where she reached her husbands black stallion.

She stood quietly for awhile, letting herself drape around the horses neck and letting the sound of it's pulse in its neck calm her, as well as it’s warmth heat her up. A sudden hammering in the distance caught her attention and she pulled her coat closer as she followed the sound. Heading through a gate leading into the workshops she looked around until her eyes caught sight of a warm light erupting in the far back of the grounds. The moon was still hanging high on the sky, and she didn’t think she’d met any workers in her life that was willing to work overtime so far into the night. At least not voluntary. 

Cautiously she walked closer to the light, listening to the sounds of frustrated grunts and the force of a hammer. She caught sight of a very familiar figure when she pushed away a leather hanging by the entrance, and quite perplexed she called out to him, “My lord?” 

Out of pure shock he dropped his hammer as he was about to strike the red-heated metal. His head spun to met her confused stare with his wide with shock, “M’lady...What- what are you doing here?” He said, letting go of the warm metal that quite rapidly seemed to cool down as soon as he stopped working on it. 

“Couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk… then I heard noise and followed it.” 

Her dropping expression might have given it away, because his eyes turned knowingly gloomy before he went to pick up the hammer and put it onto the anvil. “I see… it’s not getting better then?” He mumbled under his breath as he placed the metal into the furnace once more. “No… seems to be something we have in common lately.” She responded, her eyes roaming over the smithy. 

It was a small and rather cosy corner build, but at the same time a big mess. Dirty cloths and tools laying unorganised around the place, barrels and boxes filled with either scraps or broken weapons. Only the few of what she assumed was his works, hanging around the walls and pillars. 

“It seems so, although I'm afraid we struggle for different reasons.” He said, and Arya proceeded to wander around slowly while he focused on the fire. “Not really.” She whispered as she ran her fingers over the dusty desk and picking up a pair of tongs, “So this is where you’ve been disappearing to when you wish to run from Davos?” She asked earning a single amused huff from Gendry. 

“I wish, lost that race long ago, but yes, in a way… it’s the only place I’ll catch some peace and quiet, that is at least until he shows up.” He said before taking out the burning metal and expecting it closely before giving up on it and stuck it down into a barrel of sand. 

“Is that why you are out here in the middle of the night? To hide?” Arya asked, turning to catch a glimpse of him as he rolled his neck in disappointment and watched the smoke erupt from the barrel. “To distract myself actually, it helps to clear my head... and let out some pent up aggression I suppose.” 

“That’ll explain how you’re able to take so much shit at a time.” She mumbled, not realising she’d cursed before Gendry get out a tired laugh, “It does help yes, but grow up in Flea Bottom of King’s Landing and you’ll get used to taking a punch or two.”  

Arya rose a curious brow at him as he took a brief glance at her over his shoulder, she knew he was a bastard so he’d obviously had to have a previous life. “I'm to assume this is where you also learned smithing?” She asked, to which he responded with a blunt nod, “Yeah, old man Mott, taught me everything I know… well prior to all of this.” He answered, waving a gesturing hand out towards the castle.

Arya let of a huffed breath through her nose as she tried to imagine Gendry any other place than in the castle. It was quite easily done actually, given that he didn’t seem to look the part most of the time, even if he did try to. “You must’ve liked it there.” She assumed of from the way the corner of his mouth slanted a bit at the end. “Hard to say, it was a shit-hole through and through, but at least life was a bit more simple. Here you get everything handed to you but ten times the trouble in extrange for that.” He pointed out and pulled out a stool and sat down, observing her as she continued to explore around. 

“You hate it that much?” 

“Hate how I got it more like. Being a lord is every bastards dream so of course it’s not all bad, but I was taught long ago not to judge another man's job before you’ve had it yourself. And so far, it far from what I pictured it to be.” Gendry pointed out, and Arya agreed, knowing where he came from it probably wasn’t an easy transition. 

“What did you picture it to be?” 

“Easier, better… the typical stuff, none of this; diplomacy and… over-contemplating.” Gendry explained, and Arya shot him a amused look from the corner of her eye, “You say that, yet I don't think I know anyone who spends as much time thinking things through as you do.” 

“I do it because I have to, it’s my job, I might as well make an effort to do it properly… Why, is it too much?” He asked curiously, and she shrugged, “No, lack of thought is the main cause of death… I Imagine a lot of men could’ve saved themselves if they’d done the same.” Arya said, her face drooping slightly and a knot tying itself in her throat as her dreams flashed through her head.

Gendry must’ve noticed her change because his own face seemed to soften a bit and he leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting firmly on his knees. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to-” She sensed what he was about to do so she interrupted him by clearing her throat, “No, it’s my own fault, I shouldn’t’ve thought about it like that.” She corrected herself, but didn’t satisfy Gendry. 

“I’ve called the banner men.” He stated bluntly, his eyes turning firm as Arya looked back into them. Her chest tightened a bit and her stomach swirled as she met them head on. She hadn’t been feeling alright since they got the message, and definitely not around him. It was hard to tell when it was a chill of thrill or nausea at this point, they happened so frequently that she couldn’t really distinguish between the two anymore. 

“When will they arrive?” She asked quietly. She was aware about his intentions and plans with the war, he’d been very clear about that from the beginning. She hadn’t really been outside in a while so she wasn’t sure how official he’d made it, but he didn’t make the effort to hide it either. “I'm sure I’ll hear from the firsts lords in a few weeks… I'm guessing a moon or two at best, and that's assuming they are even willing to come.” He admitted with a lousy tone. 

Gendry was the bastard lord of Storm’s End, everybody seemed to know that, even beggars were judging him behind their pleading eyes and bowed head as they cried for a petty coin. Arya could only imagine what a tureborn lord thought of him, especially one that was supposedly under his leadership. 

“Have you ever called upon them before?” 

“Not under these circumstances, it haven’t really been necessary before now.” He said with a bitter undertone and she pushed herself up on his desk, her knees getting tired from standing. “Then they will have to come, they’ve pledged themselves to house Baratheon, if they refuse it's teason since they’ll have broken their vows.” She frowned and Gendry pulled a grimace. 

“Just because they come doesn’t mean they’ll join me, they’ll have every reason not to.” He explained and Arya crossed her arms over her chest, “And they’ll have every reason to join you as well, it’s a matter of making them see it that way.” 

Gendry huffed at her as he leaned back and adjusting his shoulders as his spine leaned up against the corner of the pillar, “And how do you purpose we do that?” “A lord's pride is firmer than any metal in his world, you’ll need to earn their respect if you want them to see you as more than just a bastard til a name.” 

Her comment seemed to amuse Gendry and he mimicked her seating and folded his arms over his firm chest, and gave up a sly smirk, “Well we’re in luck then, cus’ bending metal just happens so to be my speciality.” 

“Great, then I won't have a reason to doubt you my lord.” She returned his smirk with a small smile of her own. They shared a quiet moment of sincerity before Gendry’s smile slowly feel from his lips and he rolled his neck in discomfort, “You know, you don’t have to call me that when it's just the two of us, you can just call me by my name.” He said and once more Arya felt a chill run up her spine. 

She hadn’t really thought about it too much, calling him by his title seemed rather natural for her at this point. The only nobles she didn’t address by their title was her family, and she doesn’t recall ever being asked to drop the formalities by others. Yet somehow, she felt as if he was removing a wall with his words, one of which brought her more comfort than she’d like to admit.  

“Sure, but only if you return the favor.” She let off a small smirk which only dropped when Gendry pulled a hesitant face before but nodded shortly after, “Fair is fair I guess.” he huffed before standing from his seat and stretched his shoulders by crossing his arms over his chest, Arya smiling to herself from his comment. 

“Very well, want to head back then… Gendry?” Arya tried out, surprised at just how hard it was to suddenly say his name. Gendry himself didn’t even seem to fully grasp the calling of his name, taking his time to adopt to sound of it before nodding shortly, “Alright then, let’s go... Arya.” 

\-- 

A moon pass before anything happens, Arya had started to adjust to her life in Storm’s End, as well as her duties that came with it. She started to form an schedule for herself, in the mornings she would practice on the hidden blaconey, then she would go bathe and eat, she would be free until noon, what she did within those hours depended on what happened around the castle as she would usually go for walk. Her afternoons were usually spend either with Coal out in the fields, depending on Gendry’s own schedule of course, sitting in the hall and listening to bickering, which by now she was getting pretty good at stopping, or more training. 

Time began passing rather quickly suddenly, and her days seemed slip through her fingers like sand. She didn’t really mind it, the faster time passes the quicker they could get their revenge. Gendry himself was starting to turn impatient even though he was kept busy by the other preparations. He had turned very open towards her, sharing his problems and worries with her whenever they met, he would also ask for her opinions at times, unless she hadn’t already told him herself. 

Arya really only felt comfortable around Gendry and Davos at this point, of course more so the former than the latter, given had Davos really only spoke to her when work was involved. With Gendry it was a bit different for obvious reasons, then again it had been like that from the beginning, however it changed a bit and Arya didn’t know why. The recurring feeling in her gut seemed to come more frequently, and she didn’t know why, all she knew was that it made her strangely hot inside and at times even fidgety… but not uncomfortable. 

She tried to hide the way it affected her, given that she wouldn’t be able to explain what it was should anyone ask her, but also because she wanted it to go away by itself. She thought she might be getting sick, but her pulse was fine and she didn’t feel weakened in any way. So she ignored it, and hoped that one day it would pass on it’s own.  

It had consumed her one late afternoon, training on the balcony she tried to keep herself focused even though her attention seemed to slip each time Gendry flicked his fingers through the pages in his hands. He had joined her on the balcony a few times in the past, saying he liked the atmosphere better there. At first she didn’t think it would bother her as much as it did, but as soon as she got used to his presence she suddenly wished she’d been able to say no. 

He didn’t speak to her and barely moved once he’d seated himself, so it was really her own fault that she got so annoyed. At a certain point she couldn’t help herself but stop her training and look over at him with a heavy sigh, his attention getting captured in an instant, “What?” He asked in response to her narrow look and she proceeded to walk over and sit across from him on the stone rails. 

“Nothing, how’d it go today?” She said, leaning her head back against the pillar behind her and a leg dangling over loosely over the edge. Gendry shrugged after he gave her a curious look, “Fine, nothing out of the ordinary.” he mumbled letting the papers rest in his lap and watched her frown. 

“That's bad because?” She asked based on his disappointed tone, “Because ordinary isn’t exactly what I'm looking for, I still haven't gotten a response from the banner men and I'm unable to so anything until I have their full support, and you might have noticed that I'm not one for doing nothing.” He said calmly and Aya agreed quietly, Gendry rarely left a job undone once he’d made up his mind. 

“Can’t be long now, it’s already been a full moon, not to say I can't imagine anyone wanting to stay in King’s landing after what happened… They’ll come.” Arya assured him, and he groaned in disappointment like he always did. Gendry was a hard worker, so when the people around him didn’t follow his pace he tended to get a bit tense and a bit sluggish. 

He leaned his head back and sighed to change the subject, “You’re getting good at that, found the book I mentioned?” He said, gesturing to the spot she’d been practicing. “I did, but while it would’ve been great to have for my history lessons, I'm afraid it didn’t contain the information I’d hoped for.” she admitted. 

“Sorry about that, I’ll have to request for one that does then.” He apologised with a light smirk on his lips and Arya felt a rush of relief as a young guard came running onto the balcony and interrupted them. 

“My lord. My lady, forgive me but-... the banner men has send their responds.” The young man stuttered and reached out a shaky hand with two small letters, which Gendry wasted no time ripping from his hands. Gendry rolled out the first letter, a frown on his face as he read it. 

Arya waved the guard away and waited until he started to open the second letter, to take the first one out of his hand and read it for herself. “We’ll be getting visitors then.” She mumbled after reading the acceptance letter, glancing up at Gendry who handed her the second letter with a firm gaze in his eye, “‘bout time.” 

His voice was low and rasp and it caught Arya off guard when he turned his back to leave, “Where are you going?” She asked turning to grab the papers he’d left on the railing, and follow troop, “To make the beds for our visitors.” 

\-- 

The first responders had been house Errol and house Connington, both accepting the call from their lord, and other raves from the rest of the ten houses were quick to follow along, their responses all flying in within the week.  

Ronnet Connington was also the first of the leaders to arrive, it was quite early too so to say Arya wasn’t in the best mood was an understatement. She rolled her aching shoulders as she stood next to a stone firm Gendry, who’d been awake for a long time and prepared for the arrival. He was properly dressed, just like he had been the first time she’d been introduced to him, only this time he kept a weapon in front of him. 

A carriage and a five horses came rushing through the gates, a cocky-looking man leading them. She heard Gendry let out an exhausted sigh as the man jumped off his horse and headed towards them, he obviously didn’t seem to like him. He was tall and had red hair, Arya hadn’t done her research on the house, mostly because she didn’t care, but she did know about his cousin. She wasn’t a fan herself. 

“My lord, pleasure seeing you again, healthy as always I'm presuming?” Ronnet said with a thick ego beneath the toothy grin of his, one of which Gendry didn’t return. “Better than last we met yes, hope that doesn’t disappoint you too much.” Gendry breathed, his cold stare digging into the redheads empty eyes. 

“Why of course not, I wish you nothing but good health my lord… ah- and my lady as well.” Ronnet spoke, turning his attention to Arya who was standing quietly and observing the situation. She could already tell why Gendry didn’t like him, he was a prick and probably rotten to the core, so she wasn’t overjoyed when the spotlight turned to her. She quietly nodded his way, and avoiding his gaze which he didn’t seem to enjoy, but Gendry interviewed, untouched by the knights scowl. 

“You brought your own wife I see, you should escort her to your room.” He spoke up, gesturing towards the clearly way too young lady that exited the carriage, her youthful eyes gleaming as she looked around the castle grounds. Arya felt bad for her, not only due to her age but her marriage. 

“Yes yes, but afterwards I do wish to have a word with my lord as well, I need a favor you see… of course you wouldn’t have summoned me was it not likewise.” He gave up a deliberate wink before turning to call the blond lady to him, Gendry and Arya standing behind and watched as servants lead them into the castle. 

“I don't like him.” Arya stared blankly, to which Gendry chuckled and glanced down at her, “Happy to know I'm not the only one.” He said to which Arya narrowed her eyes when looking up at him, “What did you mean earlier, about not being in good health last time you met?” 

Gendry frowned and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, “Oh that... when I was first named lord of the Stormlands, there were some… dissatisfied people to say the least. Someone tried to poison me, which didn’t work obviously, he seemed very pleased when he got the news back then… nothing more.” 

Suddenly irritated Arya’s stared turned hateful, “He poisoned you, yet still lives?” Gendry blinked and shook his head, “Wasn’t him, in fact I still don’t know who did it, even if I do have my speculations. Ser Ronnet is a lot of things, but he wouldn’t risk his neck to try and kill me.” He explained, but Arya was still on edge and felt her nerves boil a bit by the thought of having a person like him roam around the castle. 

“Think he’ll surport you then?” 

“I have his fealty already, besides, he’s a knight more than a lord, people like him never says no to the opportunity for a war.” Gendry shrugged, clearly not giving it a second thought and worrying like Arya did. 

“Then who are the people we need to convince exactly?” Arya asked, folding her arms over her chest, and Gendry wavers with his head a bit, “All of them of course, but the most problematic ones are house Caron and house Wylde might need some convincing, but given their size I don't think that’ll be too much of a problem… it’s house Tarth I'm the most concerned with to be honest.” 

“House Tarth? Why’s that? Thought that’d be the least of our problems given their almost undivided loyalty to the Baratheon name.” Arya blinked in confusion, to which Gendry nodded.

 “Yeah, and that’s how it’s always been, especially under my late uncle Renly’s rule, now he’s gone, and so is every other trueborn Baratheon. Problem being that one; I'm not trueborn, and two; my father broke off an oath of marriage to lord Tarth in exchange for lord Stark, which obviously didn’t settle well with him given that he’d already failed to marry his daughter off three times now. It’s fair to say he’s still a bit bitter about it, and now I'm asking for his fealty in war to get revenge for the man who was put above his kings promise, so you tell me why I shouldn’t be just a tad bit concerned.” Gendry explained with hint of frustration backing him up. 

Arya pulled a hesitant face as listened to her husband, feeling strangely guilty for an action she had no control over. “You were promised to the lady of house Tarth?” She asked cautiously which surprised Gendry who shook his head quickly, “Oh gods no, that was prince Tommen, but just like the the red queen didn’t want him to become Lord of Storm’s End she didn’t wish him to be wed to Lady Tarth, something about her looks I think. Same reason why Ser Ronnet refused if I remember correctly. The oath broke off as soon as Robert found me and promised me to you, which only added salt to the wound I think, can’t even marry her to a former bastard and all that.” He clarified and Arya blew a cheerless breath through her nose. 

“I almost pity her, can’t imagine the offence _she_ must have taken to that.” Arya mumbled and watched as guards prepared for another arrival, to which Gendry chuckled, “Lady Brienne isn’t really the lady you’re making her out to be I'm afraid. She’s probably more than happy not being married to someone like me or even Tommen for that matter. She served under my uncle in his guard and is pretty famous for her fighting skills.” Gendry explained with a amused smile on his face when he watched Arya’s taken back reaction. 

“You’ve met her then?”

“Never spoken to her no, but I have seen her before in King’s Landing when I was still a bastard. She disappeared after Renly’s death and no one has really heard from her since then… doesn’t stop lord Tarth from trying to marry her off though.” Gendry gave off one last chuckle as Gulian Swann comes riding with his two sons and six other soldiers and a banner men. Gendry quicker than anything putting on the firm and expressionless face and got ready to welcome the old lord of Stonehelm. 

\--

Only two days passed before the castle was crowded with foreign men and banners hanging from the walls of the castle. Arya doesn’t recall ever seeing the servants of the castle so busy, in fact she doesn’t even recalling herself being so busy. Ever in her life had she had to muster as many fake smiles as did the past days, there was practically a lord of something around every corner of the keep. Her only real place of peace being her bed chamber, but even that was crowded with the servants coming in to do either of two things, draw a bath or pulling out dresses in front of her that she refused to wear. 

Lord Selwyn of house Tarth had eventually arrived, and just as Gendry had expected he wasn’t all that pleased to be there and especially not to see Arya, the old man's stares digging hole in her forehead when she’d introduced herself. 

The night of the gathering came, and it was held in the form of a great feast in the great hall, overlooking the roaring sea in the late evening. A bit tired Arya sat in her usual seat by the lord’s table, the long table crowded with all kinds of meats and fruits that she happily picked at and ate silently as the shout of laughing men echoed around her. Gendry sat next to her, with the same serious expression he’d pulled for over a month. 

Arya couldn’t tell if it was an act he was simply putting on or if he was being genuine, she considers it to be a bit of both given that he had to show who exactly was in charge around here. Her father had done the same thing whenever a gathering was held at home, only problem being that she didn’t know if she was supposed to do the same thing. 

“You’re looking tense.”  She leaned over, making Gendry flinch out of his dead stare and rubbed his cheek where her breath has reached him. “Huh?... I am?” He asked, leaning back in his seat, ignoring the ruffus being caused in front of him for a second. 

“A tad bit, your shoulders nearly tickled your ears-.” She said waving a finger by her own earlobe and watched him shake his shoulders loose in his seat in response. “- You don't have to worry, they’ll give us their support.”  

“And if they don’t?” He asked out of sheer curiosity, to which Arya shrugged loosely and picked up a knife by her plate and spun it in her fingers, “Then we should remind them where exactly they are sleeping tonight, don't you think?” She stated seriously, but Gendry still laughed and picked the knife from her fingers and twirled it in his own before putting it down onto the table again, “Then let’s hope they remember on their own, I don’t want more work on my plate then I already have.”

“Good, then you’ve better do your work properly.” She stated with a smirk of her own, staring back into his clear blue eyes. He leaned in closer with a amused smirk of his own, his elbow resting firmly on the armrest of his chair, a teasing look in his eyes. “Is that a threat M’lady?” 

Arya felt the strange chill run up her spine once more, and her heart beginning to pound in her ears, deafening the crowds loud cheering and yelling. Her breath falling quiet through her mouth as her lips began to part, her vision fixated on the clear blue in front of her and the sharp shadows the flames cast over his face. She became at a loss for words suddenly and her mind seemed to have forgotten what he’d said and what was going on around them. 

The overwhelming feeling set a sudden panic through her when she figured out what she was doing, and she had to practically gut herself before she managed to rip her eyes away from him. She broke the short stare and pushed a nudging hand into his shoulder and went to grab a cup of wine, “Though we agreed to call each other by our names.” She muffled into the cup, and Gendry leaned back into his spot. 

“Yeah in privacy, now isn’t exactly the time nor the place do you think?” He joked and Arya felt her eyes being pulled back towards him and managed to peek back in time to see the smile on his lips before it fell. 

“Not like you’ve managed to do it when we’re actually are alone anyways.” She argued to which he frowned, “It’s a habit, comes with being a commoner, it’s a hard mentality to just suddenly drop.” He responded to which she merely shrugged, she didn’t really mind it as much as she lead on. The times he did call her name was usually at times she didn’t expect it and he hadn’t thought about it, the fact that he made the effort was enough for her so far.

She was about to respond when Lester Morrigen of Crow’s Nest suddenly yells up from his table in a drunken slur, “My lord! We’ve eaten and drunk your stocks empty don’t you think it’s about time you tell us what you want from us ehy!” 

Once again something in Gendry snaps and he’s back into the stern mentality and turning his attention towards the middle aged man. The other lords in the hall beginning to quiet down, and look up to their overlord all waiting to hear his responds, but Gendry holds a pregnant pause before speaking up, his eyes roaming over men's heads like a hawk. “You ask like you don’t already know why… We’re going to war.” 

Some excited mutter spread through the hall, but doubtful eyes were also shared between some of the lords. “War? You want to go to _fucking_ war?!” Lester erupted with a bubbling laughter and smacked his young heir firmly on the shoulder. Gendry didn’t find his gesture very amusing however and straightened his back in his seat. 

“I do… and I expect you all to follow up on your oaths of fealty and give me your support.” He responded calmly to which Gulian Swann asked, “And for what purpose to you wish to lead our men into battle on?”  

Gendry narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his seat, his elbows planted firmly into the table as he made sure he made himself crystal clear, “Revenge.” Swann gave him an approving nod before settling down and retrieving his cup to his lips.  

“And why on the gods names would we support you? You’re telling us to follow you, kill the remaining true born sons of the Baratheon name-” Bryce Caron spoke up from his small table of men to which Gendry was quick to snap back at the minor lord, “I'm asking you to follow me and kill the people who murdered my father, _your_ king, and betrayed our trust. Are you suggesting I ignore such treachery and keel to my betrayer?-” Gendry sneered and hammed his first into the table. 

“- You’re forgetting who gave me this position and this name, and I intend to honor the word I gave to that man on the day I got it. I don’t care _who_ the enemy is, but so long as they are spitting on this house and this land I intend to bring them down on their fucking knees and make them wish they’d never tested our patience. So if you wish to go back on your word, I’d gladly make you the first example of that promise my lord.”  

Gendry had a certain fury about him whenever he became threatening, it was one of the factors about him that Arya admired the most about him. Mostly because it was always came so unexpectedly. Arya had seen it before so she wasn’t as taken back as some of the many men in the hall who was listening to the deep growls coming from their overlord. He’d been so worried through out the night that he wasn’t able to convince the men, and it seemed like it was all tossed out of the window whenever someone angered him. 

“Our lord is right, we’ve pleaded ourselves to these lands and to this castle. I commend you my lord, and my house shall honor our fealty and give you our support.” Ronnet spoke up, rising his cup, his sly smirk locked onto Gendry. Ronnet was backed up by house Wylde then, house Swann, house Estermont, house house Errol, and house Morrigen, which left only house Tarth and house Dondarrion as the remaining houses. Lord Dondarrion hadn’t shown himself at the feast, with only a word from his betrothed back at blackhaven to reassure them on his support. 

Lord Tarth remained silent however, and Gendry didn’t speak to him throughout the rest of the night seeing as though the other lords hadn’t paid the old man no mind. Arya remained silent for the rest of the night, being forced to stay at the table when Gendry left shortly after the speech to talk to Davos.

She caught the eyes of one such shy servant girl she seemed to recognize, standing the far corner of the hall, her wary personality scared to cross the floors to pour the drunk men more wine. Arya couldn’t help but want to call her up to her, but eventually had her sent out of the hall for the night. Arya had to wait for two hours before the first lords started to pull their drunken asses out of the halls, each attempting to pay their respects to her before wombling out. Gendry came back with Davos just as it started to quiet down, to which she allowed herself to head to bed herself. 

The lords went the same way they came, and workers were put up on overtime as soon as they’d left and the true preparations begun. Just as stressful day seemed to overtake all of Gendry’s attention, Arya’s own attention was suddenly occupied when Davos came with a letter rolled tightly in his hands, sealed with red thread and the wolf sigil pressed firmly into the wax holding it shut.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, sorry I've been away for so long but I've had to move, and it took up most of my time this week. However now that I'm free you can all expect chapters a bit more frequently hopefully! 
> 
> This chapter is politically focused, which is obviously per my intentsions, but at the same time I'm really excited to finally get some proper feelings going between the two. I seem to have forgotten to introduce Arya to "smith Gendry" so I did that as well in this chapter, and had them drop their formailies, which yes, will take some getting used to as you can see. 
> 
> Also I have Brienne and Beric weaved into the story now which excites me lot, can't wait to explore them as well. I'm trying to bend cannon and my own stuff together in case you can't tell, since most of the stuff in the story is kind of cannon but not really, but do tell me what your thought about all of this since it's my favorite thing about writing this story! 
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> (updated: 21-09-19)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hindrance, Acquaintance and Awakening.

Arya’s heart was pounding in her ears and her chest as she ran down the hall, her head turning to look down at each corridor as she searched around. She was panicking to the point of her hands shaking as she looked for Gendry. He always seemed like he was just around the corner but now that she needed him he was nowhere to be found. She was running out of breath when she pushed the heavy door to the library open where she finally found him. 

Him, Davos, lord Tarth and his own advisors stood surrounding a large round table in the middle of the room, and given the way they all turned to her it was obvious that she was interrupting something important. Not that she really cared. She stood in the door opening, her eyes wide and filled with a deep fear that Gendry seemed to pick up on quite quickly and looked her up and down and waited for her to speak.

 “Gendry.” 

His name was all she could muster in a pleading tone, and the deep candid worry in her low calling was enough for him to realise what was going on. He excused himself before leaving the room, wrapping a firm hand around her upper arm and pulling her along behind him, her eyes still not wavering from his face as he lead her further down the hall. Her shaking came to a stop, and she strangely felt weak under his warm touch despite trying her best to focus on keeping up with the fast pace he was putting up. 

Gendry pushed  her inside a storage room, the dusty air already clogging her nose as she waited for Gendry to shut the door behind them. He snapped his head back to her, and stepped closer as she began fumbling with the letter in her hands, trying to roll it out before Gendry spoke up, concern coating his words, “What’s going on, are you alright?” He asked hastily, where as Arya started to shake her head vividly and attempted to hold the letter out to him. 

“My- my brother... he- my family they are-” He might have sensed that she couldn’t form the right explanation, so he took the letter from her twitching hands and began quietly reading it. He read it twice before giving her a serious look, “it’s legitimate?” 

Arya nodded, “Yes, it’s my brothers writing I know it better than anyone.” She breathed to which Gendry bit down on his lips and gave off a unsure look, “Arya I don't-”

“You’ll give him your support won't you?” She interrupted him to which he frowned, it clearly not being the problem he was focused on. “Of course I will but… are you sure you’re alright?” He sighed and looked down into her still panicking eyes. He could see through her like a sheet of silk, and it was clear that he wasn’t referring to the second half of the letter regarding Robbs war declaration but rather on the beginning part of it. The part regarding her youngest brother Rickon. 

She choked on the knot in her throat, her stomach turning into a pit that seemed drop all the way to her knees, making them weak. Her brows slanted, trying to shove out the words in her head of the first half, not wanting to feel miserable again. “I… I thought he was safe.” She managed to push out before feeling her eyes starting to burn again, her mind slipping away as she imagined her younger brother before feeling the drops of tears falling from her chin. 

A sob escaped her even though she did her best to hide it, and a warm hand came to cup right cheek, a thumb running gently under her eyes to wipe off the burning tears. Not really thinking straight Arya leaned into it’s touch and closed her eyes, craving the comfort it brought her to be held. “I'm sorry, I wish I’d known” Gendry muttered quietly in a low tone, to which Arya shook her head and raised her hand to wrap around his wrist, “You couldn’t have prevented it even if you knew. I just wish my mother had never sent him, he’d been so excited about it too...It was his first time away from home as well.”

She let out a shaken breath before pulling off his hand, and wiping her own tears with her sleeve. Gendry was standing still, just a step away should she need it, watching her with a pitiful eye. He must’ve known she was right, because he didn’t respond to her and simply let he catch her breath before she shook the chilling feeling off her. “My aunt is the traitor I’m sure of it. She never loved lord Arryn, and is about as easily corrupt as a whore in a brothel, she’d do anything to get him killed.” Arya’s sadness turned to anger as she cursed at her aunt. 

“If what this letter says is true then they must’ve struck at the same time as the attack on the Sept, meaning she must’ve worked together with whoever planned that… and ahead of time as well.” Gendry muttered lowly, as he rubbed a sore feeling out of his neck. 

“Lord Baelish…” Arya suddenly spoke up, recalling all of the gossip going around about her aunts affairs and the letters her mother had read for Sansa and her, mentioning her true love. “Huh?” Gendry followed up, to which she repeated, “My aunt Lysa was rumored of having an affair not long before I left the north, my mother got several letters talking about her love finally returning to her. If lord Baelish was responsible for my father’s killing and they really did work together like you suggest, then they must’ve met before right? He must’ve been the man my aunt spoke off, and convinced her to kill her husband and my brother under the feast.” 

Gendry let out a frustrated groan as his hands turned into fists at his side. Arya didn’t blame him for feeling angry, but even more so he was putting more guilt onto his own shoulders. It was as if he thought he really could’ve fixed everything, as if he’d failed at something he had no control over. Arya didn’t like that side of his personality, really because she hated the pity it inflected onto her. She didn’t like to be watched with eyes of sympathy, pity or melancholy, they made her feel small and she prefers not to shrink more than what she’d already done.  

“My brother will be heading south soon… He’s called his banner men as well.” Arya mumbled, looking down at her boots as she prayed that Robb would be successful. “Hope he’s facing less trouble than I am.” Gendry sighed defeatedly and Arya looked up to catch his tired eyes blinking down at her, “What are lord Tarth conditions?” she asked bitterly at the thought of the old man being the only reason they are being held back. 

“A sturdy connection with the house mainly, I’ve got no children, siblings or cousins to offer him so I’ve proposed to have Lady Brienne join the guard. However given that she’s nowhere to be found, that offer wouldn’t really matter anyways… he has practically disowned her at his point as well, so I can’t imagine he’d even accept it if she _was_ here.” He complained a still irritated hand waving around him as he stepped around. 

“He’s supportive of her fighting is he not? He even let her fight with your uncle Renly.” Arya questioned, “If you can’t beat them I suppose, but that isn’t the same as supporting it I'm afraid.” 

“So then what? We have nothing else to offer him do we?” Arya frowned, and Gendry shrugged, “The best thing would for him to get a wife, since he’s mostly concerned with getting an heir to his family name. The thing is just that the man’s old so I doubt he can even manage as much anymore, and I don't know any ladies exactly wishing for a night with the man.” 

Arya cringed at the pure thought of having to lay with a man like lord Tarth, and the picture that went to her head made her stomach curdle. “Does he wish to break oath with the house then?” she asked to which Gendry shook his head, “Too much honor for that, he wouldn’t dare break centuries worth of loyalty and family oaths just because of a marriage. He’s simply testing the waters I think, so far he’s done nothing but try to provoke me into giving him more than he deserves. I'm not really a Baratheon in his eyes after all, he doesn’t think I have it in me to deny him of his demands.” He spoke behind gritted teeth and looked at the door as if he expected lord Tarth to hear him. 

Arya on the other hand wasn’t too keen on hearing how he was being treated, it felt like a waste of time if that was the case. “So this is simply to humor him?” She darkened her tone in a similar way to Gendry’s but he was quick to realise that his wording had angered her. “In a way, but I’ll have to play along for a bit to make sure it doesn’t suddenly escalate.” 

“So you’ll continue to negotiate with him?” 

“yes, but not enough for him to think I'm a pushover. He’s an important ally to have so I can’t take too many risks, even if it is tempting to handle this the old fashioned way.” He teased slightly, with a upbringing grin on his lips, but Arya’s dissatisfaction must’ve been obvious because he turned to her completely and patted her hair down. 

“I won't let him toy with me and win, it’s too soon for that... Don't worry alright?” 

“I'm not worrying, you’re too persistent for anyone to toy with you, I'm just frustrated is all. We shouldn’t have to be held back because of some old sack of a lord.” Arya mumbled and Gendry chuckled softly, bringing his hands to her neck and forcing her head upwards to look at him properly again. His eyes were gently and soft, and the small smirk on his lips made a heat crawl up her spine, and she took in the addicting feeling growing within her as she searched through the deep blue of his eyes. 

He seemed to be doing the same, studying her face closely as he held her in place almost effortlessly. Her hands were eagerly twitching at her sides, and she couldn’t figure out why. They wanted to move but she couldn’t tell where to. Even her toes were begging to be pressed firmer into the floor whereas her heels wanted to lift herself, but she resisted on doing so, even if it took everything in her not to act on her developing impulses. 

“No one is more restless than me. I'm not doing this because I want to, you’re gonna have to trust me on this one Arya… it won't be long now.” He breathed lowly, the rasp his tone sending goosebumps over her shoulders. “Alright.” she managed to whisper, hardly able to really consider what he’d said to her.

Her neck went cold after he’d removed his hand, having given it a reassuring squeeze before letting go, “Good, I’ll have to return then. You should write your brother a reply, he’ll be expecting one, give it to a messenger this time after you’re done.” He gave her one last smirk before opening the door and leaving her behind to try and piece her mind together again. 

\-- 

Eager to distract herself Arya took to training for a sense of relief. It didn’t seem to work to begin with, her mind continues to loop around itself and think of other stuff. Her family, the war, lord Tarth and Gendry all seemed to find a way to weave themselves into her thoughts. She imagined her enemies before her, cutting them down with each step she took even if she carried no weapon in her hand. 

She would make blood spill from each and everyone of them, slit their throat, behead them, gut them open, whatever to simulate the boiling feeling in her veins. Killing a person wasn’t something foreign to her, not man or animals. Her father had taken her out on her first hunt and taught her how to skin the animals she’d caught. Her first real killing had happened as an accident when she’d been younger and less knowledgeable. The workers boys had harassed her by the lake where they’d found her training by herself, it’d been before anyone from her family knew of her obsession so she was scared that they would tell on her.

One of the boys had started to push her around, calling her names and cursing at her, even then she was too small to stand up to a bigger person, but it didn’t stop her from trying. She started fighting back, biting into his arm to the point of drawing blood, it tasted gross she remembered. In a frail attempt to get her off him he pushed her into the ground, but Arya’s hold had been cat like and he fell with her and landed chest first into her sword. 

The children ran away screaming, leaving her to panic by herself as the warm sticky blood ran over her hand and down her arm. She cried that day, but not because she’d been regretful, but because her mother and father learned of her secret that day and had punished her for it. The boy may have died but she didn’t care all that much, in her mind he’d been deserving of it having pushed her around ever since she first cut her hair. The first few times it’d happened she’d told her mother, but it usually backfired on her and became a scoulding for having gone out to begin with, so she stopped telling her. 

Killing people wasn’t a hobby of her hers, in fact she hadn’t done it since then, but she knew from the moment the boy had drawn his last breath, that she was capable of doing it again. In fact by now she had a lot of people she thought deserving of death, and she wasn’t going to rest until she’d delivered it to them. 

A hesitant step stopped behind her, and a coarse gasp caught her ears. Arya was quick to turn on her heel and stared into the moss green eyes of the new servant girl. In her hands were folded pure white bed sheets and her apron had gathered some spot since last Arya spoke with her. She also had a more healthy look in her eyes, not to say a warmer glow over her cheeks. 

Arya gathered her feet beneath her and noticed how the panicked girl was about to turn on her heel, “Wait!” She called out to her, making her flinch in her spot and she mouthed a curse as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t see anything M’lady I swear it, I-I'm sorry I so rudely intruded.” She rushed out, peaking open a eye and pushed her lips into a nervous line. Her voice was still very rasp, and hard to hear but Arya didn’t really mind, since she’d met her she’d felt a strange urge to speak with her. 

“You didn’t intrude, I just didn’t expect anyone to come here.” She stated to which the young girls eyes went wider and even more fearful, “I-I swear I didn’t mean to come here, I must’ve taken the wrong turn r-really I didn’t mean to break his lordships orders, please forgive me.” She practically begged, her still hands curling together in a prayer to which Arya frowned at. 

“Orders? what orders?” Arya asked. 

“It’s…. prohibited to go to her ladyship's balcony, unless it’s extremely urgent. Lord B-Baratheons orders m’lady I sweat it.” The girl struggle to get out, and Arya’s surprise was clear on her face. Gendry hadn’t told her he’d made such a rule, but that’d explain why no one really seemed to come here other than her Gendry and on certain orcations Davos. She wish she’d known why he’d done it, but she was still thankful for it in a strange way, perhaps he figured that she didn’t like people watching her… That or it was Davos’ idea to “keep her image clean” or whatnot. 

“It’s fine, you don't have to worry, I'm not angry with you.” Arya clarifed and watched the girl still a bit hesitant to take her word for it, but Arya couldn’t help her if she didn’t believe her, because she meant it. “You’re still rather new, I too get lost around here at times, it happens… but now that you’re here-” Arya started out but cut herself short when she realised what she was about to ask of the girl. 

She didn’t really want to be alone anymore, but at the same time she had nothing better to do. The girl was still very anxious around her and she was sure she wanted to run away, and Arya wasn’t about to be selfish. “- never mind, just forget whatever you saw and there’ll be no trouble.” she sighed walking over and placing herself on the railing, looking over the rising sea, a wind picking up around her. 

“You were practicing the Braavosi dance.” The girl spoke up after a brief pause, the strange anxious sound leaving her tone to which Arya looked back over at the girl who continued to stand in the doorway. “I was, why do you ask?” 

“You have no sword.” She simply continued to state the obvious, and Arya got a tad bit annoyed, “I don't, I had to leave it in the north after I was sent to be married. Why?” She narrowed her eyes and the girl looked down at the sound of her firmer tone. 

“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen anyone practice without one before and still be able to hold their balance.” She mumbled which peaked Arya’s curiosity. “What would you know about that?” Arya asked and the girl seemed to finally realise her mistake and suddenly turned to walk away from Arya who refused to let her leave and rose her tone.

“I didn’t permit you to leave…-” She stated firmly making the girl flinch before turning back to face Arya, looking like a scared rabbit in front of a wolf. Not wanting her to fear her Arya let out a soft sigh and relaxed her tone, “-You asked me questions, now let me to ask you some in return. Starting with that… how would you know?” 

The girl swallowed something thick in her throat and tired her best to work past the coase rasp in her throat, although with no success. “I’m B-Braavosi M’lady, thea water dance is a common sight there.” Arya blinked as she was taken back, but not necessarily surprised given that she had noticed that her accent weren’t necessarily westerosi. She wouldn’t have guessed Braavosi, but she’d also never spoken to anyone from there. 

“That explains a lot… how’d you end up here though?” 

“My father and I were crossing the sea when we were caught up in a storm in the bay… I was saved and brought here.” She sighed, a bit seemingly a bit unsure to continue and while Arya was a bit curious she wasn’t about to the poor girl into opening up to something she didn’t wish to. 

“Say, what's’ your name?” Arya asked jumping down from her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, the girl hugged the bedsheets closer to her body, but rose her chin and looked Arya in the eyes. “Nasella Forel M’lady.” 

Arya rose a keen brow at the sound of such a foreign name, and admired her sudden burst for courage when she spoke it, it even brought a impressed smirk on her lips. “Alright then Nasella, since I'm self taught I’d appreciate if someone like you helped me to correct my mistakes.” 

“I-I couldn’t M’lady it wouldn’t be-” Nasella started out her cough lingering in her throat but she managed to hold it back. Arya wasn’t about to have her reject her however, too eager to become better at fighting for the upcoming battle ahead. “-I don’t know how it is in Braavos, but here in westeros I'm already considered a incompetent lady by even so much as trying to learn how to use a sword, so don’t go about telling me that it wouldn’t be proper. My only request is simply correcting my form to the best of your ability, nothing more.” Arya explained rolling her eyes at the still hesitant girl. 

“Why is his lordship allowing you then?” She asked and Arya was tempted to shrug. 

Arya wasn’t really sure herself, but she did know that Gendry wasn’t one to judge her for being improper, given that he himself carried quite the reputation. He’d never expressed a dissatisfaction about her wanting to train either, first time he saw her on the balcony he’d even seemed impressed. Nasella didn’t seem to really know much about the situation in the castle, had she known Gendry was a bastard, and what that meant, she wouldn’t have asked. 

“He… respect me.” Arya concluded slowly almost as if she needed to convince herself first before it really made sense, but it didn’t seem wrong to say so. Nasella rolled her thumbs before placing down the sheets by a niece in the wall and bowing her head, “It’ll be a honor to assist you M’lady.” 

\-- 

Over the course of time Arya started to become fond of Nasella, although she never seemed to be able to shake off her anxious tendencies and didn’t speak much. Her company was smoothing to Arya, it wasn’t stressful to have her around and simply having someone around her helped her concentrate. It was a different feeling from Gendry’s presence though, and Arya wasn’t so sure which she preferred anymore. 

Nasella was simply a presence, a gently and calm presence around her who would watch her closely with her slim green eyes. It reminded her a bit of Jon’s stare whenever he looked over her training back when he was around. Gendry’s presence was strangely pronounced to her. He never looked at her, and never spoke, if she was observant enough she might catch him sighing every one in a while but other than that he was doing his best to simply be a ghost around her. Arya thought he did a horrible job, she could sense every movement and twitch he did when he’d sat around her. 

It stretched further than just the balcony at this point, she was constantly conscious of him whenever he showed himself to her. It annoyed her to no end, even to the point where she’d avoided him some days, and it wasn’t even his fault. She had herself to blame, and while she wished she understood it better, she wouldn’t dare and test herself to find out… she knew enough to know that she’d regret it if she did. 

Another month passed quickly, but progress was quick to follow after lord Tarth had finally accepted to follow up on his oath. Gendry’s last offer had been for him to send a squire of his choice to the castle to serve under Gendry in the war. It had been Davos’ idea, and while it wasn’t a direct connection to the house it had been better than nothing, even lord Tarth had been able to see that. Gendry had been a bit grumpy about it to begin with, since he wasn’t a knight and wouldn’t know what to teach the young lad anyways. 

The stormlords was after a while started to send their own soldiers, a large camp starting to build itself outside the castle walls, tents and banners of different colors covering the patchy fields. These new circumstances also lead to Arya not being able to ride with Coal anymore, since she would have to ride far from the castles views if she wanted to get some freedom, which Davos refused to allow.

The people around her did respect her however, the soldiers and servants all giving her their respect once they saw the silver stag on her shoulder holding her cape together. Arya wasn’t really a fan of the attention but it was better than risking trouble for herself and Gendry again.  

“You’re really going through with it then?” She whispered under her breath as she sat up in their bed, her knees pulled to her chin and looked down at Gendry who had his back turned to her and trying his best to fall asleep. “Yeah…” He sighed lowly his shoulders fall and rising along with the slowly rhythm of his breathing. 

“Tomorrow it’ll be official then, we’ll declare war.” She stated, looked out over the room and listening as the strong wind blew hard against the windows outside, rain whipping itself against the glass. Gendry shited under his blanket and turned to lay on his back, shifting a glance up at her, “You sound concerned.” He responded lowly, catching her attention and she shifted her gaze to catch his in the darkness, her hold tightening around her upper arms. 

“You don’t” She countered and he rose himself into a seating position his hands wrapping themselves around one of his knees. He seemed to think it through for a brief moment, leaving Arya to stare into the back of his head with a held breath, trying to shove away the incoming impulse. “Can’t risk it, things like doubt and fear… the moment I give in to feelings like that I’ve lost.” He mumbled and Arya had to dig her nails into her shoulder to not reach out. 

“So you’re not scared?” 

“Of course I am, I'm still human, I’ve never been to war, let alone lead anyone into one… but, there’s a first for anything I suppose.” Gendry breathed softly, turning to look at her over his shoulder, and his hazed look enough to make her throat go dry and her stomach swirl. 

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the figure she was looking at through the moonlit room. It was a feeling she struggled to compress even though a part of her didn’t want to, she wanted to test the feeling so badly, see what would she would unconsciously do if she let go. It was the adventures part of her that begged to see what was ahead of her, to explore the new part of her, but it was her instinct and commonsense that told her not to, even if it was just a arm’s reach away. 

“Arya I-” Gendry started, inhaling sharply wetting his lips in the process and placing a hand behind himself, opening his posture and tilting his head back to fully look at her. He cut himself short however as Arya, who without realising it, placed her hand on top of his, her slim fingers wrapping themselves under his palm. 

It felt as reliefing as she’d hoped it to, the heat from his skin rushing up through her arm and into her chest. It was stimulating but she was quick to realise that it didn’t satisfy her in the least, in fact it only made the feeling in her stomach even more eager and hectic. Gendry might have misunderstood the worry in her eyes for something else because he got increasingly perplexed due to her strange behaviour, and twitched with his fingers underneath her palm to regain her attention. 

Arya snapped back from her internal fight with herself and looked back up at Gendry with a struggling frown on her face, still not able to remove her hand. “ I trust you… you won't lose.” She spoke up, breaking the bubble in her throat. 

Gendry blinked at her suddenness, but he rose a smirk to his lips and nodded calmly, “I did promise that didn’t I?” Arya could tell he was making a joke out of the situation, and while it might have been his way of coping she too deep in making her point clear that she had to repeat herself firmly, squeezing his hand to have him look at her again. “Gendry… you won't.” 

He seemed to be able to tell that she didn’t find this a laughing matter, but for some reason he didn’t make his chuckle fall from his throat. Instead he pulled his hand from under hers and brought it up to her hair, stroking it gently, the heat from his palm spreading over her head the cold when he removed it. “Alright...-.” He breathed, retracting his hand, “- try to get some sleep, we’ll get busy from now on.” 

Arya looked at him with slanted brow when he gave her one last melancholy smile, before laying down onto his side like before. Arya herself did get the sleep he suggested, her night was spend restless and wide awake, with her heart pounding like a horse in her chest and her mind traveling to places she’d never expected to go. Curling underneath the furs, she didn’t turn away from him, and didn’t hide either, her eyes locked unnervingly to the back of his head and over the little she could make out from the darkness. 

She feared her life and sanity in many ways that night, now wasn’t the time to get distracted, and she refused to give in to her other half who were trying to gain control once more. Instead she pictured her family, Robb, Jon, her mother, even her chamber maid from back home. Anything to distract her for just a second, but they were all pictured in the same black silhouette that her body seemed to refuse turning away from. She couldn’t be weak like this, not now, and she wouldn’t give in to temptation, not ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we getting fluffier like promised, I hope you liked this, Im happy we're finally here and I can start turning on the fire for you all;) Next chapter will be a Gendry pov, since we might need his side of the story after all this, but what do all of you think?
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (updated; 21-19-19)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hesitation, hincrence and hunger.

Frustrated, Gendry was frustrated beyond sense, Anger was filling his veins with every breath and he felt his head throb with every passing maddening thought. His felt his hands twitch at his side whenever it wasn’t digging his nails into his palm in a hard fist. His found that his jaw was constantly in a hard clench turning his neck sore and giving himself a light headache. His chest was in a constant puff like a bird and kept straight by his shoulders, which was held stiff by his unbending spine. 

None of the servants had dared spoken to him for the past few days, his spiteful stare making them hesitate to even pass him in the halls of the castle. He didn’t really take notice of it, given that he for the first time in a while couldn’t care less about what any of the subjects thought of him. A lot of things were making him angry, in fact by now it was all just pent up aggression that was turning his mood faul. The Storm lords might have all gone but not without each and everyone of them taking turns on pressing his buttons, to which he had a lot of mind you. Each had left requests, demands and comments before they’d left the castle, practically throwing out wishlists out from their carriages or the back of their horses. Some were less than others obviously, but the sheer fact that he had to deal with them before he could do anything was annoying. 

Lord Tarth had been the worst of them, obviously, not only had he not been allowed to put his fist down when his demands got increasingly more whiny. The constant reminder of the word his father had broken to get his wishes, prevented him from going against his instinct to cut him off and end the discussion. Then there was the ever so small problems he also had to deal with, food for the soldiers, accommodations, complains from the soldiers as well as the commoners that had to give up their fields to store them. They didn’t really take long to solve, Gendry simply had to sneer at them and remind them who they were exactly speaking to and they would head his word. 

It was just that he’d eventually had to sneer at so many people for so long, that he no longer had to fake his anger with them at all. 

It had gone on for weeks, and he had trouble calming down by the time it peaked. He couldn’t even hide it in front of Arya in the evenings, even if he did try. It disrupted his sleep and made him restless, which Arya noticed in the end where she finally found him in his smithy. They’d talked and it’d strangely helped him, she’d helped him. 

He hadn’t realised how much she tended to do that even if she didn’t intend for it, and he hadn’t realised how much he tended to yearn for the feeling she inflicted upon him when she did. Arya was always strangely calm, even after the news of lord Stark's death she managed to keep a cool leveled head… to an extent. The unwavering focus she’d managed to hold whenever she was training or simply passionate about something, rubbed off on him a way he couldn’t help but take full advantage off. 

Arya was something else, she was so confusingly different from any woman he’d known of in his life. From appearance to personality, she continued to amaze him in a way he wasn’t familiar with. She had a sharp tongue, cursing more frequently than even he did when she was annoyed, even if she didn’t mean to. She always gave off the most adorable look of self-fustraton whenever she realised her mistake, biting down on the corner of her lips after mouthing something to herself and averting his eyes. 

If it wasn’t for the teasing side of him that liked to see her flustered, he would’ve told her he didn’t mind her cursing. In fact, like with her attire, it suited her. 

She didn’t think highly of herself despite her confidence in both her speech and attitude towards the people around her. She said she didn’t care much for her appearance, still he did catch her combing her hair in the evenings and washing herself thoroughly in the mornings. She carried a large appetite in spite of her size, and she was perhaps the first noble woman he’d seen drinking a whole jug of ale to her meal. He could tell that she even wanted to chuck it at times but restrained herself, holding on to that little bit of ladyness she had to uphold.

Arya had with a strange force made herself present in Gendry’s head, his mind wandering to the image of her at times when he had a second to spare. At times, when he finally saw her in person, he felt his chest harden in a way he wasn’t unfamiliar with, but rather resented in a way given that he was not allowed, in any capacity, to act on them. He must remind himself in those moments of what she was, and what he was to her. 

Still he felt protective of her, and it’d grown stronger over span of only a few days. Her crying face created a pain in his gut, and the sobs she hiccuped made under her covers throbbed in his ears and made him feel powerless. So he did his best to comfort her, and perhaps having touched her that day in the room was a mistake on his part, but it soothed him that it’d seemed to lessen her tears, so he didn’t stop… no matter the feeling it evoked in him.

He should’ve pulled away when she reacted to it though, no matter the expression on her face. He shouldn’t have acted on it further and held her the way he did, and he should’ve certainly not done it twice. But her skin was soft smooth and heated underneath his palm and he couldn’t resist doing it, even if he did try. In fact it distracted him so much that he couldn’t even consider her words before he’d left the room again, and even that took some convincing. 

He would restrict himself, push those thought away from his head like he’s done so many times before. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now, not ever, it had simply been a while he concluded. As a commoner it didn’t matter who he slept with and where it happened, he was free to do so if he was lustful enough. As a lord he couldn’t for two reasons, one; of fear for becoming his father, and two; it simply wouldn’t be right.

Not that lords didn’t sleep around, lord Tyrion was a totem of that fact, and he wasn’t the only one… just the most obvious one. It was that Gendry was already a bastard lord, and his image was already pretty frail, if people heard that a newly made lord of his kind was simply using his power to sleep around and do whatever… lets just say that it wouldn’t have helped him much in getting some respect. Now with Arya around, he most certainly could not. It would hurt her image more than his own, they’d call her unworthy, “Can’t even satisfy a bastard lord” they’d say. He wouldn’t risk it.  

Not that he required it, he wasn’t  _ that _ type of man, commoner or lord. It was only because of… well, whatever it was he wasn’t about to act on it, that much he did know at least. 

Distraction- distraction, he needed a distraction… badly, he thought as he shook his leg up and down restlessly underneath the table in the great hall, not even paying attention to Davos or the generals in front of him anymore at this point. He could try to, but where was the bother in doing that, wasn’t like they were telling him something he didn’t already know. 

He could attempt to excuse himself with something, but Davos would never let him do that, the man knew Gendry’s schedule better than his own, he would know he was lying. He could try some other exclusion but they wouldn’t be very… lordly for the lack of a better word. 

In a light sigh the voice of one of his generals faded into his attention, “- So we will need more weapons if we are to succeed my lord.” Gendry’s brow frowned as his eyes snapped back up from the map spread out in front of him, “huh?” he let out, making it pretty obvious he wasn’t listening very closely. The middle aged man glanced uncertainty at Davos before he repeated himself, “The men, they are still short of weapons… well proper weapons at least, they haven’t fought since your father's rebellion, most are pretty damaged or broken.” 

“How many more will we need then?” Gendry asked and once more the lord held back a frown, he’d likely already said so Gendry figured. “Roughly of the hundreds is expected to be added to the load my lord.” He responded and Gendry’s frown deepened, the workers were already working hard to provide weapons, they’d done for months, even to the point of working overtime at days. Gendry wasn’t so sure they had the money to up production even further, he wouldn’t recall so at least. 

“A simple repair won't do? The last war wasn’t  _ that _ long ago, and as far as I know metal doesn’t expire just like that, unless they’ve kept their stocks in the sea.” Gendry said snapping with his fingers to get his point across, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. He didn’t need to be educated on the matter, and was pretty sure that if every soldier was expected to be getting new swords at every war they fought in, the mountains would run dry of minerals. 

“The reports state that-” 

Gendry was already rolling his eyes, and sighing deeply and held back a annoyed groan. These men and their goddamn reports, “Of course they say they need new weapons, they were written by the soldiers themselves. Have you gone and checked for yourself perhaps?” He rose a brow at the man who was quite taken back at Gendry’s attitude.

“Well no, but I-”

“Then there is even less reason to trust it to be the truth. I’ve listened to complaints from those soldiers since they came and I’ve realised that they rarely speak the truth. So unless they’ve fought against the seashore rocks and not other soldiers, and they’ve stored them in barrels of salt water, they just need a sharpening a best.” Gendry explained firmly, leaning back in his seat and watching the generals face split in confusion, his mouth parting to argue further with Gendry. 

Not that he could, he might have forgotten that Gendry had known about swords and metals before he knew about letters and read mondane reports from unreliable sources. He really did wonder what all of these men spend their time doing that made them this foolish at times, they were generals yet did not even spend a second around their own soldiers. 

Tiresomely Gendry pushed the chair away from the table and excused himself, not even caring about the objecting stare from Davos. 

The war had been made official to both commoners and lords alike throughout the seven kingdoms, and they were to march north soon, Gendry couldn’t spend his time explaining common sense to generals that didn’t do their jobs. 

He needed a distraction, so then why did his legs bring him to the very person he needed a distraction from? 

Arya was sitting around on the balcony, for once not training but simply sitting on the railing and letting the wind brush through her loose hair, her nose taking in the salty smell from the ocean below them. He took a second to stare at her from afar, by god were she not his type, he thought to himself underneath a defeated breath and a softened look and a fast beating heart in his chest, he swore she wasn’t what he wanted. 

“This is a rare sight, what are you doing here?” He spoke up, deafening the thought in his head trying to call him out on his bullshit and heading over to lean on the railing next to her… only at armth length away from her, that much he was almost  _ too  _ conscious about. 

She blinked at him with her large grey eyes before a pleased smirk formed on her lips. “Thinking, what are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’d be able to do the same thing actually.” He sighed, escaping her softening look and looking out over the bay and the darkening sky, there was going to be a storm tonight he thought. “Why, what now?” She asked curiously. 

She was doing it again, trying to help by listening to him, curse her. She heard his troubles, and he wished he could hear more of hers in return to make up for it, he only caught them in her expressions and the knowledge he had of her character to understand why she was either crying or angry. 

“Same as always I'm afraid, sometimes it feels like I’ll spend more time listening to biggering than actually going to war.” He sighed resting his chin on his forearms and frowning slightly. 

“It’ll be over soon don't worry.” She sighed crossing her arms over her chest, she did that often these days he noticed, and averting her own eyes when Gendry side eyed her curiously, “Got word from your brother yet?” 

Her frown deepened a bit and a sadness flooded her eyes, Gendry almost regretted asking her too. Ever since the notice of her younger brothers execution in the Vale she’d been restraining herself from mentioning her family, being barely able to speak some of their names at times. 

“Not yet… I fear the messenger might have been caught when crossing the kingdoms and it never reached him.” She muttered. 

“Don't think like that, the lad was sent through the Reach not the Crownlands, they won't stop him there. Besides, if your brother has already assembled his banner men then I'm sure he’ll already be heading south, if we’re lucky he might meet the messenger halfway by the Twins.” Gendry explained simply, trying to reassure Arya that nothing was to happen although by now he knew better than to stay sure of anything himself. 

“How many men do we have?” Arya changed the subject, tilting her head against the pole she was leaning up against to which Gendry sighed at her, of course she would’ve tried to avoid talking about her brother. He should’ve known not to try. 

“Sixty-thousand, I intend to leave ten-thousand here just in case, and I’ve sent some back to the stormlords in case we’ll need reinforcements… so that's fifty-thousand with about forty-thousand to spare.” 

“That’ll be enough?” Arya snapped her head back at him, a bit of worry underlining the break in her voice. “There is always room for more of course but right now?... It’ll have to do.-” He breathed running a sweaty palm over his short hair to wipe it dry again, just thinking of the potential loss made him nervous. 

“-The thing is just, I don't know what to do exactly…” Gendry confessed softly, moving his chin further down into his arm and watching the waves on the waters, but hearing the low groan of confusion coming from Arya, and he could tell she was watching him closely. Probably narrowing her eyes, and he could tell from the sharp inhale that she was trying to push out some words. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I'm saying, I don't know what to do, don't know where to strike and when. I could attempt to take King’s landing, but previous tales tells me that that’s a stupid Idea to try to do… not to say… what it would mean if I were to win.” He practically whispered the last bit, it hadn’t really been brought to his attention before, but now that he was finally starting to piece it all together he realised what the consequences of fulfilling the revenge would mean. 

Given Arya’s expression it was clear that she hadn’t really either, which only pained Gendry further. “Say I win, say I’m able to kill Joffrey and defeat their armies, what would that mean to me? What would it indicate?” He hinted strongly and letting Arya realise for herself, the recognition becoming clear in her eyes, so he proceeded. 

“I don’t want that life Arya, I hardly want this one… I want to fulfill my promise to you, I do, you know I do… but what won't it mean for us, for yourself even, have you ever considered that?” He tried to explain and he could tell that Arya herself was trying her best to fight with what he was telling her, and for good reason. 

He knew her well enough to know that she hadn’t even begun to think that far ahead. She wanted blood on her hands, and so did he, but once that’s done and it had been spilled they couldn’t just go back to how it was. They’ll have killed the king and every successor to him, they can’t just run away from that. Gendry would’ve essentially become his father, which he’d pledged himself to never become, not even his shadow would look the same, and he cursed the dominant half of the late king that showed in his appearance.

He would have to have become king himself, and the idea shook him to his core. Even if it was his wish to become king no one would accept him as one, the bastard king now there’s something to write in down in the history books. 

“But my brother-” Arya started and knowing where she was going to take the conversation he cut her off. “I can’t get to him, The Tyrells haven’t made their alliance clear yet, but moving our armies through their lands without notice is sure to make them choose pretty fast… and it won't be in our favor. I can’t risk it. Going through the crowns lands is out of the question as well, not to say I have no clue about the Martells, but Davos told me to expect the worse since it’s likely that the Lannisters will try and gain their favor as well… I'm a sitting duck unless I attack the capital and… I-” 

Gendry struggled to finish, he didn’t know how to explain it to her in a way that wouldn’t let her down… although he was pretty sure he’d already done so. He didn’t want the throne, he didn’t even want to go back to King’s Landing if he was being honest. Arya was quiet for a while, and it weighed down on Gendry more and more with each passing breath that escaped her.

“I can’t do nothing Gendry… I can’t.” She said in barely a whisper, her voice breaking and almost pleading him not to say the things he did, even if they were the truth. Gendry looked up at her, expecting tears to have run down her cheeks and her eyes to redden, but she was just watching him with nothing behind her black irises. 

It tugged in him again, he needed to stop this and soon if he ever wanted to be able to look at her again. His fingers wrapped themselves tightly around his bicep and he bit down on his cheek to try and regain proper thoughts. Cursing and scolding himself to rip him from his thoughts, though he continued to stare at her. “Arya…-” He breathed defeatedly, his voice more husky than he remembered it being, trying to tell her something he hadn’t even thought of. 

“Fine…-” He finally managed, pushing himself upright and ignoring the widening in her eyes and staring out over the sky and the dark clouds that had pushed themselves closer, a deep rumble echoing in the far distance. “-I’ll go then, through the Reach… I’ll call for one last feast and leave tomorrow.” He felt his hands clench at his side again, and the angering frustration that’d eaten at him for days returned in a senseless fury as he left the balcony. 

-

To his promise Gendry had called for a feast in the great hall, and the castle was packed with soldiers and generals alike as they ate their fill. Arya was sitting quietly at the table, watching Gendry from afar as he mingled with the soldiers at one of the tables. He wasn’t laughing she realised, and he didn’t seem to enjoy himself in the least, an emotionless expression on his face as he drank from his jug. 

Arya was watching him with a sense of regret in her chest. She hadn’t meant to anger him the way she’d seemingly done, but she couldn’t stay untrue to her feelings towards the war. She understood what he had meant when he said he didn’t want to attack King’s Landing, and she would admit she hadn’t thought about it herself. Still… She couldn’t think of anything other than the burning need for revenge in her heart, that she wouldn’t delay, not for anyone or anything. 

If she had to die for having killed the king and avenged her father she would gladly take any sword to the heart for doing so. She was selfish, she was aware of that, she cared more for her family’s honor than she did his… and in extension her own, she’d lost too many people to do that. 

That didn’t mean she didn’t feel bad, because she did, more than she allowed herself to show. She didn’t want him to push her away, she wouldn’t allow him to do that to her, not now when she’d finally realised what she was going on inside of her. No matter how much the other side of her hated the feeling and idea of it, she was also no longer able to deny the simple fact that she’d built an unstoppable yearning for him that was far out of her control. 

The last few nights had been hell for her to say the last, having him right there, and way to lose to her, was not only distracting but physically painful. Not that it was his fault, it was her own actually as she would spend most of the night pinching herself and dig her nails into her shoulders as a from distraction from her thoughts. It was an embarrassing fact that she could picture his figure in an instant if she closed her eyes, she’d spend so much time staring into the back of him. 

She was both disgusted and satisfied with herself from having done so. She found the image repulsive, but it didn’t stop her from savoring the feeling in her gut when she pictured it, the back of her mind even invited it at times, as if nudging her and shooting knowing eyes at her. It was Sansa’s fault, it just had to be, had she not constantly thrown her own lustful ideas around Arya when they were younger this would’ve never happened she thought. 

No she shouldn’t say that, she shouldn’t blame her sister, she didn’t deserve it. No this was Arya’s own fault, and she would have to live with the torment it brought her. 

Annoyed with herself she chucked down a large jug of ale, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, and noticed how a man grabbed Gendry’s attention and muttered something in his ear before shooting a sly and quite disgusting look up at her. 

Gendry scowled deeply at whatever the man had told her, shaking off his hand from his shoulder in a annoyance, but the man didn’t stop there. He continued to speak into his ear, and soon Gendry’s expression turned into more of a bothered scowl than an annoyed one, before shooting a glance up at Arya himself. She caught it in an instant, her stomach and chest swelling up once more. 

His eyes narrowed shortly before the man leaned away from his lord and smacked his shoulders, a booming laughter erupting around him as he left. Gendry sat there not for long, before sighing and drinking what was left of what must have been his third jug of ale that night and standing up. 

As if knowing he would go to her she stood up, pushing her chair behind her and walking down the steps to meet him halfway. Perhaps a bit too eagerly in her part. He held their eye contact throughout the process, his eyes shifting into something almost apologetic and he mouthed something at her she couldn’t make out. 

Parting her lips to speak his name, she was stopped as his arm reached out for her. In a hard pull she was pushed into him, her cheek getting pressed firmly into the curve of his upper chest. Her arm was outstretched behind him as he held a firm grip around her left hand wrist and his hand running up her right arm until it landed on that familiar spot on her neck. For a while all thoughts disappeared from Arya’s mind, and her breath was caught in her throat, unable to break it no matter how much she tried to. 

She thought herself close to brain dead, her body holding back a quiver that caused goosebumps to run up her spine. Everything was still for a moment, before Gendry’s hand moved further up her neck and caught her jaw to tilt up her head just enough for her to look up just bit. She didn’t catch his face however as he bend down until his lips was just barely ghosting the helix of her ear, his warm breath running back down her neck and under the collar of her coat. 

“Sorry, my men are turning suspicious of me… go to our chamber for now.”

Arya couldn’t make out the meaning behind his words, she didn’t know what he was apologising for and why they were suspicious of him. She did know however, that she didn’t give a damn about it, all of her attention was going into taking in everything that was happening to her. To the touch around her wrist, to the rasp in his voice next to her ear, even as much as to the faint pulse she could feel coming from his wrist against her neck. 

Everything was creating a buzzing in her abdomen and she couldn’t even hear the thoughts of her hateful side. In fact she couldn’t hear anything clearly, even the yelling from the drunk men around them was muffled into incoherent sounds of nothing. 

He pressed a kiss onto her temple before retracting himself, turning to leave her to her own devices. She couldn’t focus, she was crumbled into nothing she realised, her body still conscious of where he’d touched her as if refused to recognise that he was no longer there. She stared into nothing, in fact she couldn’t even find him again once she had regained her composure. 

She knew one thing however, and it was that she was powerless now, and she’d given up on trying to even as much as attempt to stop herself anymore. Not body, and definitely not mind. Everything was eaten up now, and he’d managed to crumble any integrity she had left, all with a simple kiss against her hair. She wanted more of that, he’d peaked her curiosity now, and she wanted to feel it elsewhere to know for sure, everywhere in fact. 

Stumbling back into their chamber she closed the door shut behind her, and leaning up against it she tried to control her breath but failed. Her mind was spinning and running wild, and it continued to do so for what felt like an eternity. 

Pacing in their room for what to her felt like aged, she was biting at her nails, trying to ignore what was going on, trying to build back her own self-respect. Just as she’d begun thinking there might have been hope for even a glimpse of it, the door the to the room opened up slowly and her mind looped back. 

Flinching she stopped in her tracks and with eager eyes watched Gendry walk in, tired and annoyed with himself. Arya couldn’t care less why though, she wanted to scold him but at the same not at all, in fact she wanted to jump at him, and it took everything in her not to do so right away. 

He shut the door behind him and ran a lazy hand over the back of his neck as he stepped further into the room, and she just waited, concentrated on her posture. He cleared his throat shortly and started to speak up, “I'm sorry about back there I-... My general pestered me into it, had some convincing to do… it being the last night and all that, won't happen again.” He breathed guiltily, before looking shooting a glance up at her. 

Arya couldn’t take it, she just couldn’t, she had to act on this feeling, she just had to. So she did something she’d ever done before, and let her instinct and body take over her sense and reason. 

Within three paces she’d reached him, he’d managed to lean back up in confusion, and she’d run her hand up his chest and wrapped her fingers under the neck of his tunic and janked him back down to meet with her. Her lips found his mindlessly, and she’d closed her eyes in an instant as relief and satisfaction ran over her body like a cold shower. 

At first there was no reaction, and while she didn’t care in the first second of it, her mind cleared itself quickly and she began to realise her mistake. She would say it was payback should he be angry with her, she could also pretend to be drunk, she still tasted the ale on her tongue after all that should he doubt her. 

She pulled back, but didn’t go far, in fact she didn’t even let go of his tunic. She watched his lips and chin, since there was no way she was going to be able to look him in the eyes now. But although terrified, she was very satisfied with herself, but didn't deny that she still wanted more of it. 

She noticed his lips parting a bit, to say something to her but stopped himself in an instant before cupping both sides of her face and bringing her back to meet in a kiss. Now it was Arya’s time to feel overwhelmed however, as he responded far more aggressively than she’d anticipated, his rough lips moving over hers with a certain hunger and pace that she couldn't dare to keep up with.

Arya wasn’t inclined to say that she didn’t find a certain enjoyment in it however, her hands beginning to roam over his chest and collarbone instead. In the midst of it all however Gendry froze, kind of like she’d done, but far more fearful. She could feel his regret as he attempted to retract from her lips, but she followed them until her toes could no longer raise her higher, not wanting it to end now but having to give it up. Curse her height. 

His breath was rickety as it fanned over her cheeks, and she opened her eyes slowly to meet with his. Now she could not only feel his regret, but see it too, he was panicky but she couldn’t tell why and wouldn’t be able to understand either. 

His lips parted again, and she was tempted to do the same as before and pull him down, but his hands on her shoulders were weighing her down. “Arya…” He spoke lowly, she was infatuated by the sound of her name from his lips, it was so soft and quiet that it removed all regrets she had from having acted on impulse. “Gendry…” she responded in the same manner, trying to answer the question he was holding back. 

While she couldn’t reach him with her lips, she brought up her hand to rest at the crook of his neck, feeling his hard pumping pulse underneath her fingers. Could he for once just stop thinking so hard about everything? She’d done it, now it was his turn to let go, it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t. 

A single light squeeze with her hand on the back of his neck seemed to have undone something within him as he finally removed his hands from her shoulders and pulled her into him once more, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist. Joyfully she smiled  in her head, and a pleasure rushed over her body. 

Things escalated quickly after that, her hands running up and down his chest and realised just how much his leathers bothered her and him too. Running out of breath she had to pull back, and in between short kisses she muttered in a plea, “Your, shirt, get it off.” He might have groaned in a hesitant manner, but obeyed either way after Arya started tugging at the bindings of his coat. 

He seemed to know his way around his clothes better than Arya’s shaky fingers ever could, and managed to strip down to just his loose tunic in an instant. Arya didn’t wait for it to be pulled off as well before untucking it from his pants and running her hands underneath the loose fabric, her touch earning her a pleasured moan from the back of Gendry’s throat. 

She’d never done any of this, so she was grateful for the guiding sounds he let out every once in awhile. One thing she hadn’t noticed was her own coat falling from her shoulders and dropping to her feet as Gendry started to back up, but Arya followed him, not allowing him to run if that was his plan. 

Not realising it wasn’t, Gendry stopped after a few steps back and breaking off the kiss, throwing off his tunic leaving him bare chested, Arya taking the time to strip herself of her own vest leaving just her own tunic. A muffled yelp escaped her throat when she was pulled back in to him, and his head went from lureing above her to underneath her. She felt the ground disappear from her footing and Gendry’s arms grabbing onto her thighs and spinning her around, letting herself gasp as her back was slammed a bit roughly into the door, but it was too exhilarating to actually hurt. 

Running out of breath, Gendry saw opportunity to explore what he was holding. His mouth placing it’s warmth from the corner of her lips and down her to throat, his nose and movements nudging her head upwards to give him more space to work with. Arya swallowed and breathed heavily, wetting her lips at the feeling of her wish being fulfilled. 

He was as fast a worker on her as he was a lord, his rough and hard kisses eating her up as if he had to hurry before his conscious returned to him, hands clamming around her thighs. Arya explored him with her hands in the meanwhile, trying to map the back she was so familiar with in the dark, her fingers finding crevisis and rough patches of skin she’d never seen  before due to his shirt. 

She felt a warm lick from his tounge run up her throat and she immediately wanted it on her, so she forced his head up and invited it in. He tasted of ale and the bread he’d nibbled at down at the feast, but it wasn’t the taste of him as much as it was the silky feeling she enjoyed. 

He let out a frustrated groan after while, and carried her away from the door and over to the bed. Stumbling onto the bed were she was thrown on her back and felt his looming presence above her, his knee between her legs and his hands on either side of her head. She looked up at him in a lustful manner she was sure, her eyes roaming over his features as they were lit up dimly by the fireplace light. 

She wished she’d done all of this sooner if it’d allowed her to feel like this. But Gendry’s lingering stare down onto her caused her to snap back to reality, and begging inside her head that he wouldn’t back out now. His brow slanted down, almost painfully as his eyes searched hers, she did everything she could to convey that she was feeling… he just didn’t seem to notice it. 

“Arya this isn’t right.” He sighed deeply, his breath fanning together with hers. 

Her heart fell a bit, and she watched him silently for a second more, “What do you mean?” She questioned in barely a whisper, she could find only everything right with what was going on. 

“I'm leaving tomorrow remember? If I don't come back-” 

Arya cut him off by lifting herself to kiss him, her lips almost begging him to give it up for now and forget about it. “Don't say that, you’ll come back…” She whispered and continued to place soft kisses on the side of his mouth and down his chin. He had a stronger composure that she came him credit for however, and with a sigh he pulled away from her, letting her head drop into the furs. 

“There’s no guarantee for that Arya, if I don't come back… then I’d rather-” 

“Stop it Gendry, I don't threaten me with something like that.” She stated a bit more firmly, but Gendry didn’t seem affected by it, he merely shook his head, “I'm not threatening you, I'm telling you that we shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“But you are, you’re telling me you won't return to me as if you’re already dead. I’ll come with you-” 

“ _ No! _ ” Gendry exclaimed firmly, his eyes hardening quickly and he lifted himself from her, leaving her cold and aching. Arya laid still and looked at him as he stood up, he no longer looked like what she’d just been so close and connected to, he looked drawn back and almost hostile. “No, I need you here to take care of things while I'm gone.” he repeated more softly this time, but Arya was still wary.  

He turned away from her and looked at his shirt of the floor with a regret full gaze before he went over to pick it up. A slight stunned feeling rushed over Arya, and while she wished she could just pull him back down to her again, erase what had just happened and continued from where they’d left off, he would never allow it. Her head snapped up at the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving her alone in the room, both fearful, shocked, alone and with a heart that wouldn’t seem to calm itself for hours into the night… for he never did return to her that evening, even though she begged him to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all remember the slice of cake I promised you? Well this is it so I hope you enjoyed it. I know it isn't full commitment, but as I was writing it I realised that they weren't really there yet... well one of them weren't;). Bare with me however because now we have the ball rolling so it won't be far behind. 
> 
> The war thing as been really confusing for me to piece together since, I've removed a lot of the main story by not having the uncles around, so I've managed to confuse myself as to where we would be exactly in that regard, but I think I've got it now! 
> 
> Also I'm sorry for the late update, had some trouble to deal with that left me unable to write.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality, repercussions and regret.

Arya fastened her belt tightly around her waist and glanced up at the reflection in the mirror in front of her. She’d done her best to tidy herself up, brushing her hair, scrubbing and washing her face, nails and hands. She might even have spend what felt like a solid hour on tying to braid her hair but with little success, so she’d pushed it back into her normal half bun. However now that she looked at herself she feared that there wasn’t a braid in the world pretty enough to cover for her miserable appearance. 

Her skin was pale, and her bags under her eyes carried a slight purple undertone because of it. Her lids were darker than usual and she’d managed to slit her dry lips when she was scrubbing her face. The only thing that could really make it much worse was if her hair was greasy as well, but she’d managed to keep as much dignity due to her luck. 

She sighed as she narrowed her eyes at herself in repulsive manner, shaming herself for what she’d done yesterday, especially because of how it ended. She just had to go and ruin everything for herself didn’t she? Finally she had built something stable with Gendry, a friendship of sorts, and now she’d gone and done what she does best in life, ruin things. She would have regretted it was it not because she treasured it so much more, no matter how much she felt shameful for having done it. 

But not only was she shameful, but she carried around confusion and a bit of anger in her chest, all directed towards the man himself. Arya had spend all night trying to figure him out, but with little success however. Why had he responded the way that he did if he was just going to suddenly retract and reject her, if she remembered correctly he’d been the one starting it in the first place. Had he not pulled her in and kissed her hair at the feast she wouldn’t have broken down. No she would’ve been able to keep it together, maybe even kill off the feeling altogether after some time. 

She was confident she could… now, that time might have been doubled, and even that was being hopeful. 

“You’re pathetic.” She mumbled at herself before turning on her heel and heading out of the room, the sun laying it’s morning rays over the sea waves behind her. 

The front gate was in chaos when she came out, servants and soldiers alike all rushing around and finishing up the last preparations for the march. Arya had seen from an higher view that all the tents had been packed, leaving empty patches of dirt in the once full field, it was quite an odd sight to see Arya thought. 

Arya found herself searching through the crowd however, standing by the gate silently and barely noticed by any. She couldn’t find what she was looking after however, knowing that if it was there there was no way it would’ve escaped her. 

Davos came up next to her silent and unnoticed, and he took a second to follow her earnest stare before leaning in and speaking up, “You won’t find him here I'm afraid m’lady.” His deep gruff startled Arya and she flinched away from him, wide eyed and flustered. She was quick to calm herself however when she noticed who it’d been, her shock turned into annoyance in a heartbeat, “I wasn’t looking for him.” She stated, folding her arms tightly over her chest, she might have lied but she hated giving people the satisfaction of being right about her intentions. 

The old man rose a brow and mimicked her pose, “Really now? You mean to tell me there are other people in the castle that has been rewarded with our lady’s favor? The lad won't like that.” Davos teased with a satisfied grin on his face, to which Arya only grew even more irritated with him. 

“I don't give anyone my  _ favor _ , and I'm not looking for anyone, I'm simply overlooking the situation as lady of the house.” Arya explained, hoping it would be enough to wipe the amusement of his face, but much to her disappointment it didn't. “Forgive my asking, but since when do you  _ do _ things as lady of the house?” 

“Since always, everything I do I do as lady of the house, it's my default. You were even there for some of them.” She explained, indicating to the day with the farmers boys, and Davos nodded in agreeance, “So I was, but I also know that you don't go around seeking for things to do as lady of a great house.” Davos teased yet again and Arya scuffed, “You know sometimes I think you are prouder of this house than even the lord himself, why is that?” 

Davos smile softened as he nodded, “Quite right m’lady, I feel privileged to serve this name, because it was this house that bestowed me a chance to live a better life.-” Davos gazed down at Arya from the corner of his eye that had been proudly glancing up at the Baratheon sigil cut in light stone to contrast the dark walls. He turned to her when he noticed the lingering question in her throat. 

 “-I resonate with the lad a fair bit more than what I might seem to. It might comes as news to you, but I myself grew up the Fleabottom as well, not far from where our lord grew up actually.” He trailed off, mapping out the uncharted area in his head, the information was futile to Arya of course, having never been there and all.  

“- I became a smuggler but found myself in quite the pinch under the siege of Storm's End, so I helped to the best of my ability… I was knighted by his uncle, Stannis Baratheon, for my service and served him well until his passing, such unfortunate affairs.” He sighed deeply, and Arya chuckled lightly and was given a confused look, “Sorry, it’s just, I wouldn’t take you for a knight at first glance.” 

Davos frowned and placed his hands on his hips, “I’ll have you know I'm much more skilled with a sword than you think m’lady, I might be old but I’ve survived several battles in my time.” Arya held back her laughter and patted his shoulder, “I believe you don't worry, then what happened?” 

The old man was hesitant to continue, but did so nevertheless, “Then nothing, I’ve served the lad ever since. I was there when they found him, and I was there when he first arrived here… and I plan to be there every step of the way, that much I will promise you m’lady.” His voice turned strangely serious and it interrupted the light feeling Arya had gained by speaking to him. His tone turned her uneasy, and she suddenly didn’t wish to be there anymore, for one because she understood what he was getting at. 

“He must feel lucky to have someone like you at his side.” Arya mumbled, averting his stare and turning her body towards the gate again. “I'm honored if that's the case, although I’ll admit that it's a mutual pleasure to serve him. The lad might have his flaws, but we all do. He stays honest and true to himself however, and that is already ten times more than what even most commoners can admit to being. He may beg to differ, but I truly do believe that he is a capable lord when he wants to be, and I’ve met my fair share of nobility so I think I'm able to make such judgements… just don't let him hear that I said that, he’s sure to disagree and then I won’t hear the end of it.”  Davos explained. 

Arya held off on responding to his statements, because he’d been right about everything He’d said regarding Gendry. However all the praise in the world still wouldn’t make a man invisible or almighty, the only person truly understanding of that fact was none other than the subject himself. Arya feared that the combination of one such thing, and Gendry’s sense of duty and responsibility would bring him into trouble in the end. 

“What's your plan of action?” Arya asked slightly worried as she watched more soldiers march out of the gate and into the fields. Davos paused, probably wondering why she would ask such a thing, assuming that Gendry would’ve already shared such matters with her. “We’re heading north m’lady, passing through the Reach and into the Riverlands to meet with your brother.” 

“Will we be allowed passage?” 

Davos shrugged, “It’s not about being allowed m’lady, it’s about the message it’ll send to the Tyrells.” Arya frowned, “Won’t they join us?” 

“It’s hard to tell actually, while it may be true that the Tyrells have had their share of disagreements with the crown, it's just as likely that they’ll join them now that Robert is gone. When Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon's affairs were discovered, it was King Robert himself that ordered the investigation and let the sept have their way with the matter accordingly. It had left the Tyrell’s furious with the crown, and now that he is dead, I can’t image that they would mourn his name, In fact they may see it as an opportunity to gain favor for themselves again, since Robert blamed them for having tainted his little brother, which they of course took offence to. The young lady Tyrell is a widow now, and a beautiful one at that, she’s known for her passion for power, much like her grandmother… If what they say about wedding being cancelled, prince Joffrey will be free to marry whomever he wants to, and they are sure to take advantage of that.” 

Grinding her teeth at the mention of the prince and the wedding as it made her blood boil and stomach curl. “They would marry into that vermins house? Can’t they see that they have betrayed us and isn’t to be trusted?” she spat. 

Davos wrinkled his nose and processed her words carefully before sighing deeply, “You’d be surprised just how much nobility is willing to overlook and forget when presented with both money and power. Our house has nothing to offer, and they have nothing to gain from joining us. The Tyrells are clever people, I'm pretty sure they wouldn’t even consider it, given that they showed little promise in supporting our lord when he became lord of the Stormlands… being Robert's bastard and all that.” 

Arya digged her nails into her palm, “But they are willing to support Joffrey, Roberts direct offspring?” 

“Who also happens to be half Lannister, and hence is in direct family with Ser Tywin Lannister, the gold shitter himself, and the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms.” Davos interrupted and explained rather matter-of-factly. 

“And why’s that?” Arya asked, more pissed off than intrigued at this point, “It's rather simple m’lady, he’s rich, in truth he’s even richer than the crown itself. The only thing that holds him from being number one is the sheer fact that he doesn’t make the law, the crown does… but even that can change pretty quickly now.” 

Arya cleared her throat to hold of her need to spit out the grim taste that formed on her tongue, that vile thought of someone like that coming to power made her feel ill. She’d never met the man, and hoped never to, but he’d fathered monsters and grandfathered demons more horrible than any hell, so that was good enough for her. “They want his money then?” “They want the security, lord Tywin is as fearsome on the battlefield as he is in court, having a man like that for neighbor is sure to make one hesitate.”  

“And this is the house that won the rebellion, surely that's worth something.” Arya argued, not wanting to give op on the little hope there was in this going in their favor. “Oh indeed we did, but that was also under the rule of warmongering lord whose reputation preceded him. While the lad may have his temper, and a ruthless one at that, I'm afraid that doesn’t win wars. You forget he’s never done any of this.” 

She didn’t forget it, she just knew that he deserved more credit than what he was receiving. Gendry could be clever given enough time to think, he was already a brute so going to war almost seemed like it would come him more natural than sitting behind his desk. She huffed deeply and scuffed in frustration just as a black stallion rode in through the gate, “No, I just know him better than to be doubtful about such matters.” 

“Davos!” a loud voice interrupted them, sending a nervous shiver down Arya’s spine and creating cold sweat on her neck. She was hesitant to look up, but did so nonetheless and stared up at a sweaty and out of breath Gendry. He was dressed in dark leathers and wore his Baratheon sigil on his shoulder, in fact it’d been the first time she’d seen it on him.  His cheeks and ears were red from riding in the chilling wind and seemed oblivious to the fact that his collar was a mess. 

He sat on top of Coal whose legs were twitching from sprinting, but remained restless as it turned around in circles in front of them. It seemed in just as much of a rush as Gendry was, who still had yet to notice her standing by Davos, who looked up at his lord with a risen brow. “Yes m’lord?” 

Gendry narrowed his eyes at the title but continued to state his business, “The men have finished gathering the masses, but the supplies won't be ready in time, I need you to make preparations to send the cargo north when it’s ready.” 

“Of course, but it would be ready in time have you stayed patient for just a few more days.” Davos empathised but Gendry remained unfazed by the remark, as he finally caught sight of Arya who stayed completely still just a step behind Davos. She feared she couldn’t get a word out even if she tried to, in fact she could barely tell she was breathing as she simply stood and watched him, every detail about last night flooding into her vision. 

Gendry himself didn’t say anything, but davos might have caught the atmosphere around him because he’d excused himself. At least Arya thought he did, she didn’t really hear him had he said anything. Everything was quiet around her for a second, and it was so short it would’ve passed her attention had it not been because she was savoring every moment of it. It was embarrassing so say just how much she seemed to live in a daydream, and she hoped it wasn’t obvious on her expression what was going through her mind. 

She hardly cared really, so long as he remained on top of that horse she wouldn’t do anything and say nothing, but just simply take him in as she’d spend her night doing. Of course she should’ve known he wouldn’t do that, the outside world coming crashing down over her ears when they’d popped and he jumped off Coal. He paused slightly when he gathered the rains in his hand, but he managed to glance up at her shortly before turning to her completely and walking closer. 

Her heart got louder in her ears the closer he got, his eyes remaining heavily on her, weighing her down like paper under a bolder. The only thing stopping her from moving was his words echoing in her mind; This isn't right. This isn’t right, This isn’t right. 

She wouldn't know right from wrong anymore, for one because she couldn’t understand the reason to begin with, and for another because she didn’t want to at this point. If she could read his mind it might make sense to her, but since she was only mortal she would have to make due with her own judgement, which may oppose his in many ways.  

“Arya you should sleep.” His words came out of the blue and confused her to the point where she’d even forgotten how poorly she must appear to look. Strangely not even Davos the image enthusiast himself had pointed it out to her, so she’d thought herself lucky that her lack of color and bags might have subdued by the sunlight. 

He’d kept his voice low and quiet, just enough for her to hear and make out the slight concern it’d carried with it. “So should you, I imagine you’ve been kept awake all night by all of this.” she stated gesturing to their surroundings, but it wasn’t what she’d hoped had kept him up, but she also didn’t want her embarrassment to deepen, had she been the only one to thinking about last night. 

Strangely she wanted to save herself the trouble had it been so, so she went with the excuse she’d made up in the heat of things. Gendry didn’t seem very amused as he normally would have from such a comment. Instead he frowned at her and refused to waver. 

“Arya…-” he tailed off, and the her name evoked a now very welcome feeling in her once more. she turned stiff and hesitant to look at him again, she could tell from the heavy rasp in his voice that he was concerned but it was only barely there as the rest was covered in guilt and shame almost. “What, are you going to tell me you don't want me here either?” She said in almost a whisper as she glared down into his boots, and he inhaled sharply in response. 

He wasn’t quiet for long, because he lifted her face, cupping both sides of her cheeks and let his warm palms frame her face while he studied it closer, “No, I was going to tell you that you don't look well rested.” 

While one side of her was panicking and she left her hands go limp at her side, unable to remove his hold on her had she actually wanted to. Another was considering every possible road she could take because she found, as she stood there staring into the blue of his eyes inhaling his sent, that she didn’t want to be pushed further away. She didn’t know how he managed to speak to her so casually after what’d happened, but she wasn’t about to dismiss it. 

“I- I just drank too much yesterday is all, I just need to wake up.” She lied blinking when his thumb ran under her eyes, likely examining the bags she was carrying, but he was clearly doubting her since he frowned as he let her go. 

He seemed to be contemplating something quietly within himself for half a second, before he turned his head towards the gate leading to the workers grounds. In the midst of it Arya had gathered up enough courage to open up her mouth again, but her words choked when he looked back down at her and apologized. “Sorry, I don't have much time to spare, but there’s something I’ve been hesitant to give you… however I guess now is as good of a time as any.” 

Gendry didn’t leave much time in between his words and actions to let Arya speak, taking a few steps away from her before turning back to her and waving her alongside him. She followed him to his smithy, just two steps behind, her eyes lingering uneasily around them as the people started to take notice. 

Gendry tied Coal outside the shop before heading inside, pushing past the leather cover leaving Arya to wonder if she should wait there or follow inside. She did the latter, pushing past the leather she looked into the familiar smithy, now much more inviting in the dim daylight. 

He came back into the room with something rolled up in a cloth in his arms, clearing the mess on his desk with a push from his elbow before placing the item. He stepped away from it to let Arya have a better look, his hands scratching at the light stubble on his cheek with a hesitant gaze on her. “I realise that it isn’t what I promised, and I’ve been holding off on this because of it… but if I’m to leave you here I think I’ll feel more at ease knowing you had it, finished or not.” 

Gaining her attention Arya walked closer to the dirty cloth on the desk and eyeing him in confusion. She didn’t recall him promising her any item, but she still unwrapped it, folding out the cloth and biting down on her lips as her heart started to sway at the sight in front of her. 

On the table was a rapier, much like the the one she had a home but more fitting in length. It was a lighter metal and it was strangely thinner too. The hilt was a simple leather wrap extending from the crosspiece and ended in a simple silver pommel. A thin slit ran down the middle of the blade and into the point of it, which seemed sharp and the edges acute. It was a true Braavosi rapier, or at least as close to one as she could get to one without actually going there. 

She stared at it in quiet amazement, her fingers ghosting the slender metal before she could no longer resist picking it up. It was light, lighter than any sword she’d ever touched, and even though she knew nothing of weighing weapons, the natural feel it carried with it was enough for her to quietly praise the craftsmanship. 

Arya held her breath before looking at Gendry skeptically through the corner of her eye, “You’re giving me a sword?” She questioned to which Gendry responded with a short nod, “I am, thought it would be the next best thing to a book, since it seems getting one of those is harder than it seems… I had little to reference it off I'm afraid, and it’s missing a lot, but I made due with the time I had.” He shrugged, walking over to the other side of the room, leaving Arya to continue to examine the blade. 

She did recall Gendry saying he would bring her a proper book about water dancing, but it was nothing she’d hung him up on and had at that point totally forgotten about it. Still, the mere feeling of holding a blade similar to the one Jon had given her back when she was younger, was enough to gain her undying gratitude. 

“Why give it to me?” She asked quietly, but Gendry heard her loud and clear as the covers in front of the windows helped to kill off the loud noise from the yard. “It’s as I said, I’d feel more at ease knowing you carried it.” He stated, his hands roaming over some shelves and putting his stuff in a pouch.  

Arya frowned as she left her a clench in her stomach, “You wouldn’t feel more at ease if I just came with you?” 

It was as if even the air around them dropped heavy as Gendry stiffened in his spot, his back still turned to her. Arya didn’t feel threatened however, not as she used to whenever he became this way, directed at her or not. She didn’t turn to face him, so she didn’t know how badly he’d tensed, she just knew he was. Because his breath escaped him deep and rigged, making Arya’s back turn cold and her fingers shaken underneath the blade in her hands. 

“I already told you… I want you here where it’s safe.” He sighed, but it irritated Arya, and she placed the rapier down on the desk once again, “And I don't want to stay here, not when I know you’re out there on your own, where it’s not safe.” She argued the adrenaline starting to make its way through her veins when Gendry let out a gruff groan. 

“What exactly is it you want from me Arya? I'm going north like you want me to, I’ve rushed to get here and now you’re telling me to stay put?” 

Arya bit down on her cheek to restain herself from yelling at him, she didn’t know why she was getting so heated over this matter, she just knew she refused to back down from the argument. “I'm not...I just want you to take me with you when you do. I told you I can’t just sit around and do nothing Gendry, I’m capable of taking care of myself I just-” 

“I know that you are, but I refuse break oath and take you into a battlefield, not with things as they are now…” He interrupted her firmly, which caused her to turn to face the back of him. He was hunched over the other desk, a firm fist planted in the wooden table, his shoulders tense and stiff. 

Her anger subdued at the sight of his posture, she knew he took his word very seriously, in fact there were very few things Gendry didn’t take with a light heart, despite him constantly making it seem otherwise. Arya knew he was concerned with going into the Reach, he’d likely already heard and considered the same things as Davos had told her… Perhaps even further than that. Gendry had his doubts about the plan, but that didn’t mean he was backing down from it, he wanted to fight as much as she did, he wouldn’t have declared war if it wasn’t so. 

She found she shouldn’t blame him for being cautious, it was his job to be so in a way.  However her father also told her that there are such things as too much of a good thing, and that you can’t know everything. She’d been around Gendry enough to know that he also needed to be told when to stop thinking and planning ahead, and act before thinking about the next step. Now was one such time, and she feared that if she stayed behind no one else would do it for her. 

“We don’t know what the Tyrells will do, and we can’t be sure until we’re there either, standing around and wondering won't get us anywhere.” Arya explained calming herself down and softening her tone, although it didn’t seem to have much effect on Gendry’s own temper. “No, but preparing for different outcomes might just actually help us survive this a bit longer.” 

“There could be millions of outcomes, perhaps they might do something you hadn’t even begun to think about, ever thought about that? They might attack or they might not, they could pledge themselves to us or even my brother, they could also do a whole fifth option like staying out of this completely-” 

“They would never-” Gendry tried to interrupt her but she cut him off, “I know they would never do that, but that’s not my point… all I'm saying is that you need to stop thinking you have to know everything, you aren’t all knowing Gendry, no one is.” She breathed, having talked closer to him, just stopping at an arm length away from his towering figure still hunched over the desk. 

He rolled his neck tiresomely, most likely hating that he had to discuss these things with her, as if she was talking about things she couldn’t possibly understand. But she did get it, to an extent she really did understand why he was acting up, it was as Davos said, he’d never been in this position before, and neither had she. She was never taught how to support a lord under a war, her mother had skipped that part of her lectures, and now she was left to wonder for herself how Catlyn had managed to keep her father in check under the rebellion. Perhaps she never had to do that, after all Eddard Stark was known for his composure and talent for military strategy ever since his first battle, it was likely that their mother never had to yell at him for being foolish. 

Maybe Gendry was just particularly stubborn. It came from a good place, she had to remind herself frequently. 

“I still can’t take you with me before I know that outcome, battle or not I refuse to break the promise I made to your father until I know I can keep you safe.” Gendry argued, finally glancing over his shoulder to notice she’d moved next to him, resting her back against the table and staring at him with a certified look. “It’s war Gendry, it’ll never be safe.” She shook her head, and Gendry nodded in agreement. 

“I'm well aware of that, but knowing that I'm not the only one to keep an eye on you would at least subdue the risk of immediate danger.” 

Arya rose her brow in a askance glare, “Only one?” she asked and Gendry finally leaned back up and crossed his arms over his broad chest, “Your brother, mother and the northmen army should suffice, I’d appreciate it if I could you stay here for longer, but while Storm’s End has never fallen it has been sieged before… I don't think having you potentially starve in here would do you much better either since Davos isn’t there.” Gendry sighed defeatedly, and Arya’s heart grew light at the mention of her family before turning increasingly confused. 

“Thought you didn’t want me with you?” 

“I don’t, sadly I know you well enough to know that what I say doesn’t really matter anymore.” Gendry admitted, his eyes lingering into the court yard for a second where Coal let out a scruffed breath. “So I can come with you?” Her question had him immediately blink at down at her with a stern frown, “No, you’ll still remain here until I’ve met up with your brother and his army in the Riverlands so that I know for sure that you can be smuggled over the boards safely.” 

“What? but I might as well just-!” She started to argue but Gendry's glare and clearance of throat forced her to halt, “I'm not going to change my mind about this one Arya I’ve made up my mind-.” He nudged her forehead with a gentle push from his index finger, “-And there’s nothing you can force on me to change that.” 

A heated brush fired unto her face for a second, before she changed switched her flustered expression into a displeased frown to hide the influence it had on her. Her heartbeat rose in her ears again, and biting down onto the bottom of her lip she averted the mute stare he was pressing down on her. 

She been hoping he wouldn’t bring it up again, the conversation had changed so much and he had been the one to reject her, so she assumed he wouldn’t bring it up again. Yet here he was, staring down at her as if he insisted on embarrassing her, and forcing her to recall last night, and everything that happened after that. Arya found after a second that she wouldn’t let him have his way with her after that, so she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, mimicking him and narrowing her eyes, “I told you, I had too much to drink… I- I wasn’t thinking straight.” she lied. 

Gendry didn’t seem affected by her obvious lie however, his eyes simply continued to study her silently his attention fanning over her like they’d done last night, slowly and yearnistly. Arya herself felt her stomach tighten as well and noticed her jaw tighten as she also began studying his features closely, the sunlight showing just how dirty he was, and even lit up tiny scars on his jaw and forehead. 

She held her breath and feared herself yet again, but to her luck Gendry snapped his eyes back up at her just in time to stop her, and flinching a tiny bit he lifted his chin and teased her in a more comfortable tone, “I'm disappointed m’lady, you had me believe you were a much better liar than this… but you’re right, it was a mistake.” He ended with a sigh and turned his attention to the rapier behind them, leaving Arya’s stomach to drop. 

Had it possibly backfired on her? No she lead it this way herself, but then why was she left so disappointed in herself. Not that she’d been hopeful, she knew her luck didn’t reach as far as to turn it around that quickly, but also that Gendry was wilful enough to not let himself retract into what he’d become yesterday. 

“Gendry…-” she broke up, she sounded hurt and exhausted from holding her breath, but the plea in her tone didn’t make him waver, he simply went to pick up the blade and weighed it in his hands. “It was a mistake Arya… nothing more, forget it even happened.” he insisted, and Arya was panicking to speak up against him, but was cut off by the yelling of a guard outside the smithy, “The troops are prepared M’lord, we leave at your ready.” 

“I'm coming.” Gendry responded almost instantly and tugged the rapier into a it's scabbard before he turned to Arya, a guilty look fanning over his blue eyes. “Forgive me m’lady.” he bowed his head before placing the weapon down again and rushing out of the workshop, Arya nothing but a few steps behind as she ran to pick up her new blade. 

Pushing past the leather Gendry was already about to mount his stallion, but Arya yanked him down onto the ground again. Furious she refused to let go of the hem of his black coat as he blinked down at her, his eyes widening in surprise and a word lingering on in his throat. “I never make mistakes lord Baratheon, not about this… not about anything.” She said behind harsh breathing, her eyes firmly staring into his. 

Gendry was quiet for a solid minute, his eyes avering to the corner of his eyes, most likely to take notice to the people around them before returning to her. He parted his lips to speak, taking in a deep breath which he held shortly before hesitating shortly and exhaling softly, “I do…” 

He acted swiftly when he saw her face drop, jumping up on Coals back  and her hand fell weakly to her side as she stared into nothing. “I’ll have Davos write to you when he sends for you… goodbye Arya.” 

She might not have seen the look that accomplished the words, but it wasn’t coated in guilt or anything, in fact it was quite cold, at least to Arya. She shivered at the sound of it for a moment, before realising he’d left the grounds in a loud gallop, catching her breath in her throat as she hurried back to the front gate. He was out of the front gate before she even got there, so she sprinted cross the grounds, pushing past guards and ignoring the servants calls after her as she ran up the stairs to the top of the walls. 

She was scared of seeing him go, and panicky because she felt like she had failed herself. Rushing down the wall and standing over the main gate her eyes lingered over the army that was already in a steady march and slowly disappearing over the hills. Afraid she’d missed him completely her eyes locked onto the familiar trot of his black stallion pacing past the soldiers, most likely looking for Davos. 

Arya stood there until the sun passed, long after the last soldiers passed the hills, long after even Gendry himself was gone, and even long after the soldiers standing guard on the wall had tried to advise her to go back down. She was welded stuck to the stone beneath her feet, to the castle, and to the horde of thoughts running through her head. She debated running cross the field herself, or steal a horse to chase down the long line of armored soldiers all marching to die for her revenge. Debating whether or not she should disobey Gendry this time, just so she could see that last expression on his face she’d missed. 

He would grow angry with her without a doubt, but if she looked distressed enough maybe he would go easy on her, he’d done so before when she was crying. She could make herself cry if she really wanted to, at this point it wouldn’t even be fake she thought. All these possible situations and solutions she thought about got her nowhere but into further panic and stress. If this was how Gendry had felt for the past month she wished she’d gone with him even more so, being alone with this feeling was torment for her. because she’s never experienced it before. 

She might be clingy but she was afraid to face such a feelings without him around now. He’d always been around before, and had over time been subconsciously turned into a sturdy pole in her life. She’d leaned up against him for support more than she thought she’d done, always going to him as soon as she felt even remotely pressured by anything. Had he made her weak? Arya didn’t recall ever acting this way about any person in her life, family or otherwise.  

Was it because she was being left alone in Storm’s End? No, not really, she’d been there enough to become familiar with the place, and she knew the people that lived there as well. She still had Nasella, and she was sure there was many other servants around the castle that wished to speak to her… not as a friend of course. Perhaps that was it, although it shouldn’t be, she didn’t have a friend like him around her. 

She was used to being singled out up north with not a friend in sight, only her family, now she had neither. Having tasted the feeling of having a true friend was making her weak and fearful, but having tasted the feeling of wanting more than that made her anxious and run tired in exhaustion. She was in truth only afraid of losing it, that feeling, that comfort and warmth...she was scared she would never feel it again if he’d been right to stay concerned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again people Im back and more frustrated than ever. I had to re-write this damn chapter 3 times before I was some what satified with it, and I don't know why, but now I'm done and I honestly can't even look at it anymore. Still I hope you enjoyed this chapter, next chapter will be full Gendry POV, because boy has some explaining to do by now, and I bet I have some frustrated readers by now as well just waiting for him to get his act togther, but I promise he will and sooner than you might think too. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I'll hopefully be better with the next one, until then!
> 
> Edit: For all of you telling me this a slow burn, Im well aware, in fact it's in the tag and summery of the story so it's not like you didnt know what you were going into. I'm not going to rush because I'm sure there are hundreds of other people rushing their Gendrya fic's ,which is alright let them do them, but I like to actually build my stories warm it all up before I do something, because that way it feels rewarding. And I wanna write a fic I would like to read myself, and I love slow burns... and it's not like nothing is happening, in fact I think a lot has happened, but I guess a lot of people wanna see them frick and then "something has happened. So just to clarify for people telling me that it is.... I know, don't have to tell me every chapter, it's getting old. '
> 
> Sorry for my rant but I felt like it needed to be adressed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembrance and resistance.

Soaked in sweat Gendry rolled over on his back, his eyes staring up at the black ceiling of his tent as it waverd under the hard wind, light rain making the nonetheless cold room moist. It might have been midnight, Gendry wouldn’t have been able to tell the time given that the moon was well hidden behind a thick layer of the darkest clouds, creating a black and seemingly endless night. A Single light flickered at his side on the ground, the flame having grown weaker since last he took notice of its presence in the room. He rose a hand to loosen the ties on his grey loose tunic, he’d already undone his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows, and he didn’t wear socks despite the cold air wheezing it’s way through the tent. 

Still he was burning up, he though at first that it might have been from the fact that he was placed on top of the thickest blankets the soldiers could find to make a mattress fit for their lord. He had gotten rid of them as soon as he laid down however, and it couldn’t be his blanket because he’d already taken liberty in tossing it across the room. Gendry groaned at the thought of having a fever, but he didn’t feel sick, at least not in a feverish manner, the heat came from his chest and made his hands, throat and feet feel as if he had stood too close to a fire. 

He was exhausted and his breath mimicked that of Coal after a run in the fields, hard and a bit shaken. He was exhausted due to the lack of sleep, he hadn’t slept properly for over two weeks now, not since they left Storm’s End. His head was haunting him, attacking him from all sides whenever he got a second of silence, it was pure agony, and at a certain point he had even lingered in the dark by the soldiers fire just to have some noise around him. 

A headache loomed over him like a gloomy cloud, and dark thoughts flooded his dreams whenever he tried to sleep. He’d seen several things in front of him in his head, some even so vivid he swore he could smell the surroundings, vomit, piss, burn bread, sweat, touch fire and wet fur all lingering in the air. He would see sights he thought he had forgotten all about, and faces he’d only seen once in his life, all without names or any real connection to Gendry. 

The lady in the brothel that got her leg broken by the brute down the road after leaving him dissatisfied. The young beggar bastard Gendry tried to help out of the well, only to see him dead a bit later, a brick laying besides his broken and blood covered skull in a puddle of mudd. The beheaded body he strolled past once as he was delivering for Mott, with the head lingering just a bit further down the road, eyes and mouth hollow as crows ate at its cheeks. 

It was all nothing to him so why was he thinking about it now? Was it because something in him knew he could die soon? Was it simply because the feeling of the hard cold ground beneath him reminded him of his apprentice bed? Whatever it was it was unwelcomed by Gendry, he wanted to remember as little as he could from that time in his life, despite it being only two years apart from his present life. 

Perhaps his mind wanted to remind him of what he was, what he is and where he came from. An unacknowledged bastard birthed from a miserable waitress whore in King’s Landings very own Flea Bottom, all because a childish warmongering knight from the Stormlands had a hard on one night and happened to be served by that very servant woman, who wouldn’t dare to say no for a nights pay. Saying it like that he really shouldn’t be sleeping where he was twenty two years later, in fact he shouldn’t even be alive, living in a place like that it’s a surprise he didn’t die before he could even begin to speak. 

Twenty two years later he shouldn’t be able to roll in silk and eat lamp off the bone, drink ginger tea and taste cinnamon. Now he may not be one for the latter two of those things, but that didn’t dismiss the fact that he couldn’t get them if he really wanted to. He still ate the same meals he’s always done, only better in quality he would admit, and he still drank from the same type jug as his soldiers, and ate off the same type plate as his servants. Just being able to do that was already enough to satisfy him. 

Gendry grew up meaning nothing to the world, he was a waters… which he knew now he never really had been, it had all been a lie his mother had made up, after all, unacknowledged bastards wasn’t allowed to even have a bastard name. He lived as a simple boy that only got to bathe once a week and didn’t know his letters. He wore the same clothing everyday, having only one spare tunic and a extra pair of working trousers which he had to mend once a week due to his clumsiness with when holding the hot metal, his arms being too weak to carry it… it got better with his age however, as he build muscle he found he burned himself less. 

He could still remember the noise Mott’s hammer made against the ground when he’d dropped it that day.

It was about noon, and the sun had created a heatwave over the crownlands that day. Gendry had burned his thumb that morning, and eaten his fill of bread too even though it was drier than eating the sand straight off the sore. Four men had come into the shop, all of them gold cloaks with impressive helmets and newly sharpened swords. Gendry had gone to the back as per usual procedures, seeing gold cloaks around those areas were a common sight for Gendry, especially because Mott would always strike them a deal for more coin. That particular day he hadn’t called Gendry back out, he was found by the soldiers and their captain the king slayer himself standing with a smug smile on his pale face.

When Gendry refused to follow he was forced into the floor and tied up, they didn’t tell him what they wanted with him either. He was tied to the back of a horse and dragged through the streets of King’s landing, face first into the mud and dirt and he heard people laughing and muttering in excitement, probably thinking he was a criminal. Gendry himself even though he’d done something wrong to deserve such treatments, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember doing anything remotely lawless… well, aside from being born, and perhaps that had been enough. 

He was dragged up a tall flight of stairs, his body too tired to even struggle at point, his shoulders sore from being pulled behind the horse. It got quiet after a while, and then a loud door opened up, sending a shiver down Gendry’s spine and nervous whisper started to erupt around him. He was tossed on white marble flooring, he knew from the fact that it was glossy and cold against his cheek and it’d managed to push the air out of his lungs when he landed. 

Roberts voice was loud and clear as it echoed through the hall, but Gendry hadn't actually known it was him before he was forced onto his knees and untied. For a moment Gendry paused, a vile feeling bubbling in his chest as he stared at his supposed king. Gendry had a deep seeded hatred for royalty, he thought them to be disgusting because he knew exactly what he was to them, a worm they could use to catch fish… perhaps even less than that. 

He remembered the fake concern Robert had exclimated, scolding his soldiers for having harmed him. The king had stood right in front of him, all it would have taken was for Gendry to have stood up and he could’ve wrapped his hand around his throat, and squeezed until he turned purple. It wasn’t very day he was in the presence of nobility, so he probably deserved the slap to the face when he’d stared directly up at his so called father with narrow and venomous eyes. 

There was no warning when Robert declared him his son and legitimized him, he just opened up his drunken arms to the people, and yelled out that Gendry was now to be his son. That there was no words for the happiness he felt when he got the news of his lost son being so close, that there should be no doubt that Gendry was his son because; look at him, he is my spitting image, he’d said with a wide smile. 

Gendry believed it to be a lie for a moment, since he knew that nobility enjoyed theater and drama. Then he felt ill and nearly threw up onto the kings shoes, his sight went blurry but he managed to keep himself conscious until he was picked up by his arms and moved to a dark and dry chamber. The rest is history he supposed, because it was all a big blur to him anyways and irrelevant to himself since he didn’t care much for details at this point. 

Perhaps this was why he still felt as if  he didn’t deserve shit of what he’d been getting, nothing of it was his, not the name, not the castle, not the servants and most definitely not Arya. He didn’t deserve to talk to her, and definitely not marry her, but he had no say in the matter, no say at all. 

He had decided to keep his distance to her, because wanting a woman like that was perhaps a bigger crime than thinking he was more than a Waters. But that night he’d made a mistake, one he couldn’t retract it no matter how badly he wished it. 

His general had come up to him and whispered drunken slurs into his ears, telling Gendry that he had to remember to claim his wife before the battle; since it’ll be a while… unless you’re like your daddy? he’d asked, and it had turned Gendry furious. He was well aware of the gossip going around about him… that he refused to bed her, and while it was true, he did, he also realised that it would harm Arya if they continued to believe so. 

Still, his course of action may have been his down fall, because as he walked closer to her it was as if his mind was slowly fading into nothing and his body began moving on it’s own. He had drunk a fair share of drinks that night, but it was nothing he’d gotten drunk by, not enough for him to have lost his head as much as he did. 

It was like high staring into those grey eyes, engulfed in orange and white light only to eat him up like he was nothing. The look she carried was like anything he’d ever seen before, and he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the moment he could no longer resist himself. He felt her flinch in his grasp and it had snapped him back into reality long enough for him to retract himself. He heard nothing but his own breath for the remaining hours of the feast, and Arya had left like he’d told her to, luckily the matter about his lack of bedding also went quiet rather quickly. 

Gendry contemplated what he should say to her that night when he saw her again, he obviously had to apologize, and he had tried to, but Arya had barely let him speak before everything around him crashed and burned in the darkest pit in his stomach. Everything in his body went uncontrollably numb as her small fingers tugged his shirt, bending everything in him to her will for a second. Like watching a hourglass break her warmth left Gendry’s lips despite his mind begging her not to move away, he was too intoxicated with her scent to think clearly, but he knew that so long as he’d done nothing he was innocent. 

His last bit of sanity didn’t last him very long however, having tasted what he had denied himself for so long drove him mad, and he had to have more. So he lost himself in her, in the dark room and in time, not ever had he felt such a rush of adrenaline and he fought long and hard to stop himself. One of his methods to stop himself was lifting her, and forcing his hands to stay still. It wasn’t enough however, his body found a way around in search of more ecstasy and he should have known it only made things worse. 

The taste of her implanted itself on his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough to safe himself. He struggled within himself with each passing second and he had to get her off him, so he placed on the bed and was finally allowed to peel himself off her. The sight of her was making him go mad, and it was as if everything in him begged not to continue since their conversation from earlier in the day played in his mind on repeat. He was leaving her, with no guarantee that he would come back to her, and no promise that he would see her again should he fail her. 

If he allowed her to continue she was sure to regret it later, she had been emotionally unbalanced since the news of her father's death and had acted irrationally ever since. Not only that but he seemed to have recalled something game changing in the midst of the last kiss… she was virgin. Their marriage was never actually authorised since he never slept with her, and hence was pretty much undone by southern standards. Should Gendry die in war Arya would still have a chance to live, since she wasn’t an official Baratheon in the eyes of the sept. 

His self control could save her, and he channeled that idea every time he thought of her. No matter the increasing torment it was to do even that. He had to continue to reject her no matter what, shove her away from body and mind until his death, never look her in the eye and never speak to her.

Easier said than done, he though as he ran his palm over his sweaty forehead, for the last two weeks he’s done nothing but think about her and savor the things he could remember of her fragrance. He punched his fist down into a pillow by his side and bit into the bottom of his lip until he killed off the taste on his tongue with a that of harsh iron. 

Lifting himself from the bed he groaned and tugged his head down between his knees, he needed a distraction to clear his head, but moving around this late at night so close to the border was sure to raise some concern. So he took to reading, letters have been flooding his desk ever since he left, most of them reports about the Stormlands well being… and complaints. He opened up a letter he’d hoped to have waited to open until morning, it was a short message really, but it was the wax sigil holding it closed that rose concern within him, a wolf. 

Davos did tell him that Arya’s brother would try and contact them, so he really shouldn’t be surprised about the letter, it was just that overtime he’d come to grow wary whenever he received word from them. He picked at the wax and unrolled the letter and scanned over the words as slowly as he could, trying his best not to skip to the lines where the mention of someone's death might appear. It was, much to his relief, nothing of the sort, in fact it was like anything else just a report.  

Gendry wasn’t much for recognizing scripture, but he’d stared at Arya’s previous letters enough times to know that Robb Stark had written this himself… well, King Robb Stark now apparently. It came as a shock to Gendry at first, but also it chilled him with relief and oddly enough joy. In it Robb showed gratitude for Gendry’s support, he wrote that they might reach the Twins sooner than anticipated so they would attempt to cross by striking the Freys a deal and meet them further down. He asked if Harrenhal was agreeable given that he had heard news of Tywin Lannister reaching for the broken keep, and though that having both forces pressuring from two sides might be to their advantage.  

Gendry got hesitant at the mention of Harrenhal, while it may be in ruin the rumors of the things happening under certain rulers had spread far and wide, even the poorest of people knew not to go near it. Gendry could only imagine what it would look like now that war roared the land, and so far there was no guarantee he would even get as far. 

It was signed; Robb Stark, King in the north, lord of Winterfell. Something about hearing anyone else be lord of Winterfell felt strange to him, but he assumed that he couldn’t expect anything else now that their father was gone. He sighed as he rolled up the paper and reached for a pen, but he found that he could think of nothing to write this new king. He would need to discuss the Harrenhal thing with Davos and then the generals, although he knew that he truly didn’t need to. Still, better safe than sorry in his opinion. 

He reached for the next letter, it was sealed shut with a unfamiliar sigil and black wax, he eyed it for a second before opening it up, expecting it to be another report. He didn’t realise it at first since it was so short, but it was a private letter to him stating the following; The usurper and his followers will kneel in front of the rightful heir to the iron throne Daenerys Targaryen.

Gendry flipped the paper a few times, looking for something else, like a proper sigil or something more useful and telling. He didn’t know this Daenerys, and had even less of a clue about a usurper, nor why this was really relevant to Gendry. He hoped it might have a mistake that it landed on his desk, but realised quickly enough that he was the only one in the camp really worth receiving such a letter. Still didn’t really enlighten Gendry as to _why_ he had gotten it, since he really couldn’t care less if someone else wanted the throne, that wasn’t really why he was fighting to be begin with. 

Finding it irrelevant to him, and he really didn’t want more on his conscience, he burnt the letter the same way he burned all other reports. If this Daenerys person felt entitled to the throne, have at it he thought as he went on to the next paper in the bunch. He continued until the break of dawn where Davos took liberty to enter his lords tent, likely expecting him to be dead asleep. 

A perplexed look on his face, he placed down the tray of food in his hands and walked over, trying not to disturb Gendy’s concentration. “Don't tell me you’ve been awake all night m’lord.” He gazed askanced, to which Gendry nodded deeply and stretched his back, “Sorry to disappoint I guess.” he yawned and glanced up at Davos with a sly smirk on his lips. 

The old man shook his head in disapproval and took a short glance over his tent, “If only you meant it m’lord... Had a restless night?” He asked gesturing to the pile of spread out pillows on the floor to which Gendry shrugged, “It was a warm night alright.” 

“I hope you aren’t serious m’lord, it rained and wind blew in from the west, don't think I’ve felt so chilly in a while.” Davos explained pacing around the room and tidying up the pillows, “For a man who prides himself for having lived in Flea bottom you should be used to sleeping in harsh environments.” Gendry replied as he walked over to the tray and poured himself a drink, the taste of wine strong against his dry throat.  

“Ahh, but I also pride myself in the fact that I don’t live there anymore, haven’t slept outside for years, not to say a night in Flea bottom is nothing compared to the chill of a rainy night in the Stormlands.” 

“They have their differences I guess, ones cold, another reeks of an outhouse. You tell me which you prefer.” Gendry joked as he bit down into the soft bread. 

Davos shook his head at the young lord as he placed the last pillow down on the mountains of blankets that made up his bed, glancing over the the pile of ashes in the burning tray. “Had a lot of unwanted letters?” 

“All of them are unwanted, so yes, although I received word from lord-… well actually, King Stark himself last night.” Gendry corrected himself as he swallowed the bread and took notice to the way Davos’s head shot up, eyes wide and shoulders stiff at the mention of the new title. 

“King? He’s declared himself king?” He asked and Gendry shrugged. 

“That’s what the letter indicates, didn’t say why though… why, does it matter?” He asked, to which Davos ran a hand over his head, “Yes of course it matters, that means he means to remove the north from the Seven Kingdoms, and if we support this we will ultimately have done the same thing and pledged ourselves to the North.” He explained and Gendry frowned as he continued eaten, at this point these conversation didn’t really faze him as much. 

“He means to overthrow Joffrey and the Lannisters doesn’t he? Wouldn’t that end up in him becoming the new king of the Seven kingdoms?” 

“Not if he doesn’t wish to, by making the North a independent kingdom he has all right to simply dethrone the brat. He may to be very popular in doing so, but he still carry the right.” Davos mumbled as he walked over and poured a cup of wine for himself. Gendry wrinkled his nose at the idea, if Robb refused to rule the Seven Kingdoms there would be no telling what the others would demand of Gendry instead. It wasn’t like he could make the Stormlands independent himself, that would go against his wish to not become king of anything in the first place.  

“Well I guess this Daenerys person won't need to make anyone kneel then.” Gendry said into his cup as he chucked the last bit of wine and rolled his shoulders as he placed it firmly down into the tray. 

“Who m’lord?” Davos questioned after having caught the muffled words, and shrugging Gendry walked over to his chest to get a change of clothing, “It’s nothing really, just got a strange letter from someone called Daenerys Targaryen declaring themselves heir to the throne.” Gendry said uninterested as he pulled his sweat covered tunic over his head and started to search for a new one. 

He heard Davos inhale sharply and cough up whatever he’d gotten stuck in his throat, “Targaryen!?-” He exclaimed loudly and Gendry shot him a askanced look over his shoulder, the man even more panicked than with the mention of Robb declaring himself king. “Yes Targaryen, although I can hear I have been pronouncing it wrong, but yes… why are you so jumpy this morning?” Gendry sighed, finally finding a clean tunic from his chest. 

“Does the name mean nothing to you? Do you not even know who that is? The mad Targaryen king, the man your father fought to overthrow-!” Davos began explaining and Gendry nodded along, he knew of the previous king, it wasn’t that far back in history, still he didn’t really care. 

“Yeah I know, think Robert would let anyone forget that? It was all he ever talked about, It was either that, his dead fiance or wine. I just don’t see why _I_ would need to fuss about it, if someone wants the throne they can go right ahead, I won't stop them, in fact I invite them to sit on that lump of broken scraps, saves me a load of trouble.” Gendry sighed, he had more important and present things to concern himself with than some entitled stranger he didn’t know, demanding a throne he had nothing to do with. So long as he could see the Lannisters head on a spike he couldn’t care less what happened afterwards. 

Davos didn’t seem to share Gendry’s lack of interest however, “I think you’re missing the point lad, if a Targaryen ends up on the throne again who's to say what will happen to you, a Baratheon, Roberts offspring, they could kill you just for having the same hair color as him.” 

“Now you’re just being paranoid Davos, I'm nothing to them and I'm not my father, they’ll gain nothing from killing me, a _bastard_ son of Robert. Besides, if they can send this letter surely they must be aware of the war I'm fighting _against_ the sitting king-.” Gendry said trying to dismiss any worry Davos might have “-Also, who’s even to say I’ll ever meet with this Daenerys, I have enough on my plate trying not to get killed by Tyrells and Lannisters.” Gendry waved off and Davos was hesitant to continue. 

“Speaking of which, a letter from Mace Tyrell came in the night… and his mother, Olenna Tyrell as well, sent separately.” Davos said pulling out two scrolls from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it to Gendry, who grew wary at the sight of the flower pressed into the wax. “What could they possibly want, not like I'm bringing my army over their lands.” He mumbled as he ripped open Mace Tyrell's letter first.  

It was a fairly short notion, telling Gendry that bringing his army over the border would bring consequences. Tell me something I haven’t already thought about, Gendry thought to himself as he continued reading. It followed up on the fact that despite their previous alliance to his uncle, Renly Baratheon, they wouldn’t be able to support an ignorant and selfless child that reflected neither the same wit or greatness of influence as was to be expected of the lord of Storm’s End. Which was a bit rich coming from a old man who’s own mother had held his hand throughout his life, and to Gendry’s own knowledge had ever actually commanded his own forces. 

It ended with him promising that should Gendry cross his lands would he insure that they would not return. So with a light sigh Gendry rolled the paper back together, it wasn’t unexpected and he’d grown rather sure of the fact that they would respond that that. “That settles that then, more trouble on my hands.” He sighs, as he begun opening the other letter. 

“It is as we predicted then?” Davos asked with the same lack of concern, “Yup.” Gendry breathed as he began reading for the hundredth time that day. Surely enough the letter had been from Olenna Tyrell herself, and it started out as one would expect from such a wise old lady, covered in long and non-compulsory words. She greeted him and excused herself from intercepting her son's letter, but insisted it be their little secret. She went on telling him that while crossing borders was a stupid idea, she did see the necessity in it and told him she would personally see to her sons forces delay so they would get free passage. 

She wrote that she remembered the time of her Grandsons death, and that it wouldn’t be forgotten nor forgiven, but knowing that it was before his time she saw it fitting that he was given a change to redeem his family name. She understood that revenge would be quintessential for him, and said that if her son knew the pain of being betrayed in such a manner he would have done the same. Olenna made it clear however that she had a plan for calming the Lannisters when they would ultimately find out that they let Gendry’s army through, and that it may not be in his favor, however at this point Gendry was more than satisfied.

“So… what does the old Queen of thorns wish to tell us? Something charming I hope.” Davos smirked at his own comment and Gendry shrugged, he wasn't so sure he’d been charmed by her words, perhaps because her compliments fell between insults as well as words Gendry didn’t even know what meant. 

“I wouldn’t know, but she sure goes out of her way to toy with her own son. She gave me her word that we would be able to cross in peace… and then talked about a plan to settle the Lannisters.” Gendry ended with a sigh, and the twist on Davos’s face was telling that they were thinking the same thought. 

“I see...guess that’s an issue for a later date. So long as she knows what she’s doing I'm afraid there isn’t much we can do.” 

“You’ve met her before, think she seems like the kind of woman that would make a wrong decision?” Gendry asked to which Davos shrugged, “We all do, although I must admit that hers doesn’t seem to have caught up to her yet.” 

“Still think we should present your plan of marriage to the new king of the north?” Gendry let out a hopeless chuckle. 

“Wouldn’t hurt, although I doubt he would agree to it now, seeing as though the Tyrell’s have already pledged themselves to the Lannisters, and lord Stark seems deeply set on wanting nothing to do with their supporters… and with Olenna’s plan already set in motion…” Davos started and Gendry waved a dismissive hand. 

“Yeah they would never consider it, not to say it might already be too late. It was a solid plan though, having the granddaughter and lord Stark marry, he would have the reach the in palm of his hand. Too bad there are only so many things the old woman can do behind her sons back, marrying his daughter to his enemy might be a bit of a stretch.” 

Davos scuffed as he picked up the lord of Highgardens letter and skimmed it, “We could also go directly to the source.” He took a glance up at Gendry to gave a doubtful look, “Considering what he called me in that letter, I doubt lord Tyrell would lend me as much as half an ear to hear what I have to say. I'm hardly a lord in the eyes of that man, and after reading that I don’t even think I _want_ to have him as an ally.”  

Hesitantly Davos agreed and put down the letter, “Very well, I should write to her ladyship to inform her about our course of action then.” Flinching Gendry choked on a grape and started coughing uncontrollably, Davos standing idly by and watching his lord with a stale look on his face. Gutted Gendry managed to swallow the the fruit and overcome the shook in his body, as his hands grasped onto the table and his sight clouded when blood rushed to his head. 

He’d nearly forgotten about Arya, and for a short while he even though the rest of his day could be as peaceful as it had been through out the conversation. Sadly she was now pushed to the frontlines once more and he cursed at Davos who he knew had brought her up deliberately. 

“It amazes me that rumors even had the chance to spread with reactions like these m’lord, I knew her lady have managed to soften you a bit but-” Davos started out, but knowing where the conversation was being pushed towards Gendry interrupted him with a firm stare as he leaned himself back up. 

“Do. _not_ start with that again, I already told you that there’s nothing going on, you just caught me off guard, nothing more.” Gendry explained firmly, wanting his point to get across to the old man who was clearly skeptical, “I hardly see why you would need to be on guard with her ladyship in the first place. She’s your wife, there’s nothing wrong with having some affection towards her, in fact I think it’s great whenever people of arranged marriages manage to build some sort of fondness.” 

Groaning Gendry passed a lazy hand to the back of his neck, annoyed that the old man had managed to say it either way, “I think you and I have different interpretations of me and Arya’s relationship, I simply care for her because I feel bad, she’s lost her family and has been through alot over the last few months.” Gendry explained, and although it was hid behind a white lie Gendry still did his best to sound convincing, both to Davos and himself. 

“Well there is another thing, you call her Arya, not her title as most other noble husbands is expected to do.” 

“There’s a lot of things that I do that isn’t expected for a man of nobility, in case you forgot; I didn’t grow up calling everybody around me, m’lady or m’lord.” Gendry said lifting his hands in quotation marks and Davos sighed, “First of all you’re supposed to say; _my_ lady and _my_ lord, but that's besides the point. I think you’re taking the fact that you’re a legitimized bastard a bit too seriously, there’s a reason you’re still failing in gathering respect from people like lord Tyrell, and it isn’t lack of wit or grace I’ll tell you as much-” Davos explained with equal firmness in his tone. 

“-As a lord you live your life in a mirror, it’s what you choose to reflect towards your people that determines whether or not you’ll be perceived as a success or not. The reason why your people doubt you is because _you’re_ doubting you, I get that your upbringing has brought you some preemptive trouble to your rule as lord, but it’s as much as your own fault for maintaining that mentality as it is your reputation. Channel the idea of failure and it will eventually become reality. Now that doesn’t mean you can’t judge yourself as you see fit, but you have to be more mindful of how it may look from the outside… and to her ladyship.” 

While it was a heavy subject for Gendry to talk about, it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware of what his lack of confidence and lordly manners had in terms of consequences. However, what he was couldn’t be changed, it didn’t matter if he pretended not to be a bastard, it didn’t change anything. He was well aware that he had an image to uphold, and he did his best to keep it clean on the things that he could. He wasn’t a pushover, he had his temper and knew when to put his foot down, he may not be very clever but he spend most of his energi trying to consider every option to balance it out.  

He may not have a golden tongue, but at least he was able to make himself clear, and knew from living in the slums how to hold a straight spine and hold his chin high. Looking down on people wasn’t an issue either, it kind of came with having a temper, and insulting people was a required skill back when he was an apprentice. 

Gendry sighed deeply, tired of Davos beating around the bush, “What is it you want to tell me?” In a brief pause Davos tried to space his words correctly before speaking up, “That I fear that you are perhaps holding yourself back in areas you wouldn’t normally begin to worry about. I worry that your doubts may get in the way of your judgements, and that you overshadowing your true self may not be the right course of action for your happiness.” 

Gendry wasn’t sure why it brought a sour taste to his tongue, but watching Davos and hearing his words made him internally angry. “Since when has my happiness ever been put into consideration?” He practically sneered, but didn’t really faze Davos who was rather used to Gendry’s anger. “Since you started disregarding it and begun lying to yourself for the sake of safety for a woman that doesn’t need it. You shouldn’t take me for a fool lad, I know that the reason for this war is only a half truth and that you’re keeping things from me. I won’t make you tell me what the other reason is, because I'm pretty sure that even that has more layers to it than you like to admit to yourself, but I urge you to stop doing it, if not for yourself then for her.” 

A tight feeling was building inside Gendry’s chest, whether it be anger or something else begging him just like Davos was. It hardened like a rock and made his head spiral with regret, perhaps it was because Davos was scolding him for more than the old man may be aware of, but Gendry felt choked for a second as he fought to maintain the facade that told him Davos was wrong. 

Davos didn’t know what he was talking about, he didn’t know the extent of Gendry’s sins and mistakes that caused him to need to lie to himself… Still, why did he suddenly feel like reconsidering every desision he’d ever done? 

Frowning and irritated Gendry narrowed his eyes, “It’s as I told you, I want revenge against the people that have betrayed the house, nothing more… it’s not deeper than that.” Davos shook his head, “Clearly your reasoning isn’t enough to let you sleep at night, but I know better than to try and change your mind. So long as you know what you’re doing I have no intentions of doubting you.” 

Davos left the tent after a brief pat on Gendry’s tense shoulders, but he didn’t catch the look in his eyes due to the sheer fact that Gendry was all in his head, fighting a battle of insanity that he knew he was going to lose. He was being ripped apart, by thoughts of regret and heartache as he tried to convince himself that what he was doing was the right thing. There was no going back anyways, he was far away from Arya so there was no chance that he could inflict more pain onto his conscious than what was already there, building like a storm in his throbbing.  

There was no solution to this pain… well, that wasn’t really true, there was one, he couldn’t die for starters. He could win, he could fight to see the light of the next day… He could uphold his promise to her. It was his only chance of getting rid of the swirling guilt inside of him, and it was the only way to see her again, to be engulfed by her grey eyes and swallowed by her presence and grow mad by the sound of just her breathing. He had to hurry and end this war, he wouldn’t be able to continue if this went on for much longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you all I would work faster so here we are, and you're welcome;) 
> 
> So this chapter isn't very intresting in terms of things "going down" I don't think, I'm just updating everybody on whats going on outside of the Gendrya that we've been distracting ourselves with lately, and clearing up Gendry's act, which btw still lacks (I know, I'm annoying) I mean it's better, Davos pulled some strings, but I don't think the boy will open his eyes fully until Arya gets there again. Which leads me to this: next chapter or two (I dont know yet) is going to be all over the place because things will actually happen then. 
> 
> Someone was also so sweet to remind me that I have actually forgotten all about Dany, which made me feel horrible because I didn't mean to, and I realised that I won't get to write about Jon and her for a while (she kinda needs to get there before it can happen) so I've removed the tag and it'll stay that way until they do. So I'm so sorry about that, its my fault but I did shine some more light on her to make up for some of it. I've been considering doing a POV for her, so if it's something you think I should do, and you're intrested, let me know. 
> 
> I wanna thank all the people that have been so generous as to leave all these postive comments, really I've been so happy reading them all and it's definitely the reason I was able to get this out so quickly. They are great so thank you all so much. I know my story isn't for everybody so I'm humbled by you guys that takes time out of your day to read my -way to long- story and I hope to continue to write this because of it so that all of you who are waiting will be rewarded nicely ;). 
> 
> I realise I've been ranting a lot so I'll leave you with this; THANK YOU for reading and enjoying my story, until next time!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depareture, Discussions and Decision.

With a heavy blow Arya’s blade gilded against Nasella’s wooden practice sword, causing the Braavosi girl to stumble backwards and yelp as she tripped over her heels. Arya snickered as she leaned back up, both of her hands resting above the tommel of her rapier, “I told you wearing that dress would be to your disadvantage.” Nasella sighed lightly as she balanced herself and brushed off her grey apron. It was late afternoon with a clear sky and warm sun heating up the black walls of Storm’s End, the castle eating up as much warmth as it could before clouds would come and loom the sky once more. It had been about a mouth since Gendry had left the castle in Arya’s hands, and it had been with great displeasure that Arya fulfilled her duty as lady of the house now that her husband had left her in charge. 

It was as if her previous tasks before the war had been ten folded, meetings with all sorts of people and decisions forced onto her shoulders. She wondered if this had been her mother's life under the rebellion, because if so she took even greater pity to her mother… well maybe not really, their mother did enjoy bossing people around, so Arya could hardly imagine she would find it troublesome to rule in her husband's place. 

To Arya it was all a chore, and an endless one at that, but one she was willing to take. For one to lessen her own trouble since it had been a great distraction for her, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t more so to lessen Gendry’s worries. She wanted as little word of trouble reach him out on the fields, at least none from this castle, which she figured might be his main source of concern. So she worked hard and utilized all of the lessons she’d learnt throughout her life, to the matters she’d heard being discussed between her father and brother, to even the small ones her septa taught them under their stitching lessons. 

She ruled as she believed Gendry would, trying her best to mimic the lord's thought process, which was harder to do than she had thought it would be. However if it was something she could easily do, she could’ve saved herself a load of trouble. 

Arya was so busy she hardly had time for herself, but when she did she spend it with her new blade firmly in her hand. While it had never left her side since it had been given to her, it wasn’t like she could hold it at all times. The constant tapping against her thich had taken some getting used to, but she found it rather comforting after a while, she even placed it next to her on the bed just to fill up the now way to empty space. While the thin blade was nothing compared to the broad shouldered and warm body that used to lay there, she found that she couldn’t stand there being nothing at all. She could no longer sleep in such a large bed alone.

She called upon Nasella each time she was able to escape her duties, and met her on the balcony where she would help Arya practice. Although hesitant Nasella didn’t refuse her lady’s request to help her either, most likely too scared to. “I'm sorry m’lady but wearing anything but this would be improper of me, what if someone were to see me?” She cleared her throat, her raspy voice making her sound older than she was.

“Oh please no one is allowed out here but you and me, you said it yourself, just tie up the skirt at least you’ll hurt yourself this way.” Arya argued and waved the tip of her blade down at the servant girls hem. “That was when his lordship was here, with him gone many more urgences will have to come to you, the rule will be disregarded more often.” Nasella pressed and Arya wrinkled her nose. 

It was true that Arya had gotten less privacy and quiet hours in the day, but just because Gendry was gone didn't’ mean everything was now lawless in the castle, she made sure of that. In fact only the maester really came to her when she went out on the far side of the castle. “And so what, why would they care whether or not you have your shirt tied up so that you don't trip and fall?” 

“I'm not you m’lady, I'm a servant… and a woman, what wouldn’t the other ladies think of me, they already mock me for talking to you.” She sighed and Arya frowned deeply resting her chin on top of her hands, she didn’t like the sound of that. “Mock you, why?” 

“Because I'm a servant girl for one, In truth I shouldn’t even be looking at you. I have a reputation of my own you know, I'm already being looked down upon because of my appearance and accent.” Nasella admitted tiredly. Arya rose a brow at her saddened tone, while Nasella did stand out from the rest with her jet black and extremely long, curly and puffy hair, cobber skin tone and almond eyes, Arya couldn’t see what might be wrong with her. Her septa had told her stories of the misshapen people up north of the wall, their hair practically mold and skin so thick it was as if their heel was covering their facees in dry patches. And that was barely scraping the top of the iceberg, so compared to that Arya would say Nasella was reasonable, but it wasn’t that the servant girl was referring to. 

It was the large pink and purple burning scars running up her throat, jaw and covering up her right ear and made her hairline uneven. Arya could barely imagine how it may look underneath that large scarf she wore, but she did know that it was the reason for her broken and raspy voice. “You never did tell me how you got them, those scars.” Arya spoke up and noticed the twist in Nasella’s expression, clearly hesitant to share. 

“It was while the ship sank, it caught fire and I was trapped in my chambers because of it… I had to force my way out through my burning door, while I ran to find my father a part of the mast broke and landed on top of me. It wasn’t until the deck was under water I was able to pull myself up...I had them when I woke up afterwards.” She was quick to explain, hiding her also burnt hands behind her back and looking discouraged down onto her feet. 

Her blunt way of explaining it made Arya feel bad for having asked, and she was quick to mumble an apology, perhaps she’d been rude in asking such a personal question. “Oh no it's alright, I don’t really care for these scars, it’s just… telling you this, I recalled my father. He was a master with swords as well you know, none in Braavos had beat him in a fight.” 

“Sounds like a great man, what was his name?” Arya asked trying to make up for having brought down the mood, Nasella smiled gently as she spoke his name in such a genuine manner “Syrio Forel m’lady.” 

Nodding Arya stood back up and twirled her balde in her hands, it's seamless weight still amazing her each time she lifted it. “Right, well if your father is as great as you portray him, surely he wouldn’t raise a weak girl who feared to simply lift up her skirt when she was fighting.” Arya smirked and watched as Nasella’s smile fell into the firm gaze of determination. 

They danced around until the sun started touching the horizon and Arya’s shoulders grew tired. She realised quickly that Nasella wasn’t the greatest fighter, simply doing her best to block off Arya’s swifty strikes. Still Arya felt satisfied with herself as she put her sword into its thin dark scabbard and listened as feet approached her from behind, it was the Tarth boy who’d been appointed as Gendry’s squire. Strangely her husband hadn’t wanted to have him travel with them, and the boy refused to tell Arya his reasons, but so far he’d been of great use to her. 

“What is it now?” Arya asked as she listened to the harsh breathing escaping the boy, who stood red in the face and shaking as he held out a letter. Arya flinched as she caught sight of the stag sigil and ripped it from the young man's hands, stopping herself before she managed to open it and looked to both her sides where Nasella and the squire stood idly by. 

“Excuse me.” Arya breathed before rushing off into her chambers, her heart stuck in her throat and her mind in a wild gallop. She tore the wax and scanned the handwriting, but it was too neat to be Gendry’s own. Her heart fell a bit, but she should’ve known that he wouldn’t write to her personally, not after how they’d parted. She realised quickly that it was from Davos, and he greeted her with praising words wishing for her well being, if only he knew how  _ un _ well she’d felt the last few weeks. 

“My lady, It’s with great pleasure I'm finally able to write you this letter, I hope your health is still well. I write to you to tell you that it’s with a bitter heart that we are able to cross the borders of the Reach, although I'm sure by the time you get this we are likely already in the Riverlands. Lord Tyrell reacted as we expected, with a foul smile, and I fear our return will likely be delayed because of it. He has sworn fealty to the Lannisters and plan to offer his daughter to Joffrey. I'm sure by now you’ve also heard of your brothers declaration of an independant north, in truth I have my own concerns about it but our lord begs to differ much like I'm sure you do. Our forces will stop south of High Heart near Acorn Hall which is seemingly safe due to it’s fealty to house Tully… of course due to this I think it unlikely that I’ll be able to send for you, it’s simply not safe anymore. 

The lad is avoiding the topic I'm afraid, he has his mind elsewhere as of late. The Lannisters have castle Harrenhal, and is said to have reached Riverrun as well. Lord Stark is much to our dissatisfaction delayed by the Freys, the lad wishes to go north to try and reach him before they cross. I did my best to try and talk him out of it, sadly he barely listens to me anymore, I fear I’ve touched a sore spot. I apologize on his behalf, I expect you would’ve liked to hear from him personally, but you know how he is, our lord isn’t great with his words.” 

The letter ended with Davos signature and titles, but Arya couldn’t help but search for more, a hidden page perhaps, anything to tell her something more. Sadly there wasn’t and she dropped herself down into her bed with a deep sigh and read the letter over and over again. Robert had written to her, announcing her new title as princess, Arya disregarded it however, it was bad enough to be a lady. She just didn’t know what to make of it, Robb was still Robb, king or not so for her there wasn’t much change in calling himself king. Perhaps it was because her mind was stuck on the short part telling her that they would no longer send for her. In other words, she would have to stay in Storm’s End. 

Over her dead body, she thought as she frowned in anger. Of course Gendry hadn’t given his comment on the matter, knowing him he probably thought he could weave himself around the matter did he simply stay quiet for long enough. Arya had stayed stationary for long enough, and if they couldn’t get to her, she would go to them, with or without consent. She refused to stay around and wait for them, worry eating at her everyday and now hearing that they could potentially get surrounded she had even further need to go there. 

She didn’t consider it for long, and grabbing her thick coat and cape she dressed herself. She packed a small black pouch, and strapped herself with some of the few hidden daggers around the room. taking one last look in the mirror she glanced down at the silver pin on her shoulder. She couldn’t ride with it, but nor did she want to leave it behind, at this point it was as important to her as the sword strapped to her belt. So she shoved it into her inner vest, deeply hidden to everybody but herself as she could still feel the small antlers press against her shoulder.  

It was getting dark, the sun barely able to peak above the sea and she knew she had to act quickly before the servants came for her. She wrote a quick and short note on her desk, leaving the maester in charge, but didn’t tell them where she was going, nor for how long she would be gone. She didn’t want them to alert Gendry and the others of her travels, it would send all of the Stormlands into hell and make her crossing into the Reach close to impossible. Tying up her hair she did her best to look boyish and left the room in a hurry, reaching the stalls and grabbing the closest horse she could find to ride her out of the front gate without anyone noticing her, disguised as a messenger boy.

\-- 

A loud flock of horses intercepted Gendry’s path, making him stop in his tracks. The army was all in a rush as they ran to set up camp, they’d reached their destination north of Acorn Hall. It was late night so torches lit up the area, flickering lights irritating his eyes as he headed for his tent. In it five of his generals stood idly by and waited for their lord, one of these men being ser Ronnet who’d felt it important that he came long when the other; frightened old shits wouldn’t, as he’d put it. 

“Got your orders my lord, what’s all this about you wanting to head north alone so suddenly?” the redhead spoke up with a frustrated frown, Gendry had likely interrupted his night which he’d hoped to spend drinking for the fourth night straight. Gendry had little tolerance for that behaviour as of now, his generals shouldn’t be drinking like drunkyards in the midst of a war. 

“It’s as you say yourself, I’ll go north and speak to lord Stark, I have concerns I need to share with him.” Gendry said calmly as he stopped by the table, his stiff gaze hardening on the young lord of Griffin’s Roost who pulled a perplexed grimace, “Then send a bird, or are you one of those people that needs to declare their love in person?” Ronnet grunted, by now Gendry’s fuse was burning short, his day had been poorly spend enough as it was, he didn’t have the energy to also argue with a arrogant vermin as well.

“If it gets you to shut up I’ll say yes just to humor you, if not then I assume you know your place well enough to retract that statement ser Connington.” Gendry sneered as he watched the slim man avert his eyes from his lords with a stiff scowl on his face. “Then why was this decision come about my lord?” Rolland Storm, Bryce Carons brother, asked the middle aged brute of a man had taken his brothers place in the war, since he carried greater skill and mind for such things. 

Gendry looked to him, crossing his arms over his chest, “Simple, I wish to know the man I'm to fight with, I can’t make a judgement based on letters and if it turns out he isn’t to be trusted I’d rather know before the Lannisters are on our doorsteps.” A bit cross the bastard brother frowned, but he didn’t seem to respond patronizingly, perhaps he could see the logic behind Gendry’s reasons. 

“Then let us wait until he gets here, it’ll only be a fortnight’s travel from the twins to Harrenhal.” Ronnet spoke up, “Yes if you take the king’s road and travel with an army, I’ll only be going with a few men and head up to cross by Riverrun… it’ll be a week at best.” 

“And if he’s already crossed the Twins?” The knight questioned skeptically, looking for holes in Gendry’s plan. “He hasn’t, last he wrote he said the Freys were causing him trouble, he’ll be late either way, and I can’t sit around and wait until then.” 

“Then we’ll take on the Lannisters ourselves, we’re the storm army and we have the men, we can take them on without the damn  _ king _ in the north!” An old man sent as representative from Blackhaven erupted, slamming the table. “Sure the Lannisters, then there’s the Tyrells afterwards and then, most likely, The Arryns, and I’m still unsure about the Martells but considering their letter-” Gendry counterd narrowing his eyes and sighed, “-I’d rather spare my men’s life if I can, meaning having a proper ally is important.” 

Scuffing the old man admitted defeat and bowed his head down, “And if the Lannisters decides to attack us while you’re gone?” Ronnet hammered down onto the table, and Gendry sighed deeply, did he really have to argue about this, he thought. “Well for one thing they won't  _ know _ I'm gone, for another I’ll be leaving the army in your hands with Davos as supervisor.” 

“You won’t bring that old seashell with you?” Rolland asked and glared askanced, and Gendry shook his head. In truth Gendry hadn’t really discussed it with him yet, knowing that the old smuggler would surely try to talk him out of it, and he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. He’d barely gotten over the first one: if not for yourself then for her. The words had managed to stick with him, and it stressed him out more than he’d like it to. This war couldn’t end quickly enough it felt like, and if he was destined to die then he’d like to at least get if over with, because if not it only gave him more reason to hurry up and get back to Storm’s End. He missed having someone listen to him that didn’t end up in a lecture… he needed help. 

Going to Robb Stark might be a headstart, if he could help him cross the Twins he would, if they could put of a plan of action towards Harrenhal quicker, then he wouldn’t sit around. “No I need someone of my own here to make sure nothing goes wrong.” 

“You mean you don't trust us?” Ronnet proclaimed and Gendry shook his head, “No I do, I just trust him more.” 

A cold wind brew through the tent they stood in, and Gendry left it after their conversation had finished, he would need to have ten of the best men with him if he wished to go north. A fair exchange he thought, so long as none of them slowed him down he didn’t care how many men he had to have with him. He left at daybreak the next morning, only telling Davos when he’d already mounted Coal… he wasn’t very pleased. 

\-- 

Puffing through the cold, Arya glanced around the forest from the top of her horse. She’d ritten for two weeks and had finally crossed into the Reach. The land was as beautiful as it was hot, the grass emerald green and streams clear as crystals, and she had seen over twenty new flowers since she got there. She was expected to reach the Riverlands in about three days if she hurried and slept late as she’d done since she’d left. She took the forest roads and rushed through the few villages she’d come across, not wanting to be spotted by anyone. 

As she came to a stream her legs were killing her, and her horse was growing tired so she decided on an hour's rest.  But that’s it, she stated firmly to herself as she slid down the ledge of a stream and dipped her hand to drink next to her brown mare. It was quiet, only the sound of water rattling through the grey stones and the birds chirping away as the luke warm breeze ran over the forest tops. You wouldn’t see this kind of weather in the north she thought, just as a slow trot of a horse sounded in her incoming direction. 

Knowing she couldn’t hide herself and her horse, she pulled up her hood and pretended to watch the waters. The sound of hooves grew louder and soon it stopped, “How far to the nearest inn?” A deep and gruff voice called out to her, making Arya stiff and freeze in her spot, cursing at her poor luck. She tried to ignore them at first, but realised that there was no one else around for it to have been directed to anyone else, so she turned her head just enough for her to glance out of her hood. 

On top of a large black stallion, covered in deep grey armor and a longsword strapped to his side, a large horrifying man glared down at her with spiteful eyes. The sight of him made her stomach curdle, burning scars covered most of his face leaving his hair to fall in long patches. It wasn’t scars like Nasella’s, her resembled more that of stretch marks, while this man’s where both veiny, roughly textured and unevenly colored. 

She knew then that she’d seen this man before, in King’s landing, he was hard to forget really. He often stood around the throne room, following the little prince around like a pet… well like a dog, his name was the hound after all. She’d overheard servants mutter his name in fear when they saw him, and while she never did find him scary back then, it was different from standing so close and alone in front of him… like an enemy. 

“Two days ride.” She responded, changing her tone slightly to sound boyish. The large guard frowned deeply as he watched her peeking out from her hood, she expected him to leave, but he continued to study her. “Say boy, where you headed? it's dangerous out here in the night, shouldn’t ye’ be with your father or something?” 

Arya gulped down something thick in her throat as she paused, not only did he think she was a boy, he was suspicious of her. “North m’lord.” She answered quiet, and while the man clearly hadn’t hear her clearly he seemed catch the; m’lord part almost instantly and spat on the ground, “I'm not your fucking lord lad, and where north, what business do you have there?” What business does he have that requires him to know such a thing, she thought, scowling at the fact that she’d cursed at her. 

She mumbled an incoherent response, and he clearly didn’t hear her, so she repeated herself, not changing either volume or words. He grew irritated, “I can’t fucking understand you, speak up for fuck sake.” Arya turned her head fully, hiding it completely, “Why do you ask m’lo- ser.” She corrected herself, “You don’t need to know that, just answer my damn question.” the hound sneered. 

Arya didn’t respond, she ignored him completely, hoping it would make him move along. If he approached her she would strike, if she was quick enough she could make it up fast enough to stab him. Maybe it was wishful thinking on Arya’s behalf, but if anything she could perhaps run way… no she couldn’t leave the horse behind, she wouldn’t be able to get to the army in time. 

The hound jumped from his horse then, his large armor rattling with each step, so she knew he was approaching her. He breathing grew heavy in her ears, she had to be careful, the man was infamous for his skill as a fighter, she could very well die...Die… she didn’t want to die, not now, she couldn’t afford to die. She needed to find him first, needed to tell him...tell him everything. 

“Listen here you shit, I don’t know who you are but no one ignores me, I have a job to do and I-” His voice erupted, he was very close, and Arya grew increasingly scared. His hand landed on her shoulder, hard and heavy, and she barely blinked as she yanked away from him and stood up, pulling out her rapier in one clean movement. The hound didn’t even flinch despite her blade being pointed into his metal covered chest, the man hid curses in his mind, his face frowning in anger as he watched her thin blades tip scratching the black cover. 

His face changed however as he looked up at her, his anger washing away as quickly as it’d come. At first Arya hadn’t realised it, but her hood had fallen from her head revealing her mud brown hair and pale face completely. “What in the seven damn hell’s are you doing out here, you’re supposed to be further south.” He spoke behind grinned teeth, clearly angry with her. although she didn’t know why. “Stay away from me.” Arya stated firmly, pressing the tip further against his chest, the man didn’t seemed bothered by it however. 

“Well aren’t I fucking lucky, you just made my life easier-.” He sighed, before shoving her blade away from him, “- Listen I'm not going to hurt ye-” Arya cut him off, her blade swiftly pointed to his throat, her hands a bit shaky.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I don’t know you.” 

The hound rolled his eyes, “Yeah right you do, you’re the poor Stark girl that married the bastard lord, I saw you plenty in the keep, sneaking around like a struck rat.” the man cursed and hit her sword away once more, this time sending it into the ground as Arya’s guard dropped. He’d recognised her, not only that he’d kept a sharp eye on her apparently. She couldn’t lie to him, she already knew she couldn’t so she sunk the bitterness on her tounge and sharpened her eyes.

“So you’ve found me… what do you want from me, kill me?” 

The old man sneered roughly at her, “I just might if you continue to shove your overgrown knitting pin into my face… Sadly I'm afraid your sister wouldn’t pay me if I don’t bring you back alive.” 

Arya’s stomach dropped, “Sansa? She’s alive?” the man nodded, “Yes, I last saw… but who's really to say after everything the little shit’s done to her.” He didn’t seem to honestly care about weather or not Sansa was really well, but Arya’s attention was well beyond his interest in her sister. It hurt she realised, it hurt knowing Sansa was still alive, but it hurt more knowing that she was still in King’s Landing… close to Joffrey and the queen. The betrayers. 

The hound noticed Arya spacing out and chuckled in a menacing manner, “Took you by surprise I see, no matter… now we can do this one of two ways, either you get on your horse yourself and follow me. Or you can refuse me and be taken by force, your choice.” Arya snapped her head back to stare at the gruesome looking man, her mind racing all of a sudden. 

“Go with you? I'm not following you anywhere.” She stated firmly, and the twist of disappointment on the knight's face made her wary as he sighed and his stare darkening, “Option two then I see.” His words carried a horrifying sound to it’s rasp and Arya was so stiff by the sound of it she barely got to react before he lifted his hand, clenched in a hard fist, and then everything went pitch-black. 

\--

As expected Gendry reached the last hill of his journey within a week, the Stark banners flew in the wind as grey tents wavered quietly like trees as wind brushed through the open field. The north men were loud, Gendry could hear their yells and laughter from top of the hill, and he cringed at the thought of having to go near it. His last few days had been rather quiet and he found he’d missed not having a thousand soldiers around him at all times, so he wasn’t all too keen on going down there to reality again. 

From the corner of his eye he noticed one of his men lifting their own yellow banner, announcing their arrival to the wary northmen. Gendry found himself sighing and heading forward to get the color out of his peripheral vision, and not soon after entering the loud crowd seemed to swarm around him as he rode through the mass of tents. 

He’ll admit he was in a foul mood, mostly because he was tired of riding, and it was an odd feeling when he finally dismounted the large stallion. A young man came to his side, planting the damn banner right next to him and started yelling to announce his presence to the largest tent in the camp. He didn’t physically smack the boy, although he was very close to, but he turned his head swiftly and glared deep holes into the cheeks of the boy, which caused him to slow down and eventually muffel his words into nothing. 

He could deal with the titles when he was in the castle, but standing in front of this tent in particular he would have none of it. A deep clearing of a throat caused Gendry to look straight ahead once again and into familiar the features of he could only assume was Robb himself. His hair was the same deep color of Arya’s and rather curly. His face was longer than his sisters however, with a dark beard to match his hair and cool toned blue eyes. Gendry studied him shortly, he was lean and well build… like his father, he thought. Robb seemed to mimic Gendry before he formed a light smile onto his face and glanced up at banner to his side. 

“You must be lord Baratheon, I’ve anticipated your arrival with great interest, although when I heard you were coming I was a bit shocked.” Robb chuckled shortly.

He even talks like royalty, Gendry thought with great restraint in his head. He hadn’t been in front of an nobel man of same status in a long time, it made him nervous, his breath heavy in his chest as he felt intimidated by the Stark. Although he was smiling at him and praised him, Gendry was still stuck with the one part about him he couldn’t overlook, he was a trueborn noble, he was king and he was Arya’s brother… he was more than Gendry in every way, not his equal in any manner in truth. It was like standing in front of his father again, and even though it shouldn’t be, the bastard in him that still clung to the hateful and skeptical ideas he had about nobility and couldn’t help but question everything behind that smile. 

“Forgive me my lord… or well, I assume I should be calling you your grace for now on. I came because I have some matters that I thought shouldn’t be discussed through paper, not to say I thought knowing the face of my ally may be of interest so that I don’t accidently kill you on the battlefield… Although I can see now I wouldn’t have had much trouble with that.” Gendry spoke as calmly as he could make his voice, and indicated to the large wolf he carried on his chest, two more holding his large fur cape, and a necklace that hung loosely over his chest. 

Gendry wouldn’t be surprised if he also carryed the same sigil on his sword and shield. It was obvious that the man was proud of his house, compared to him, Gendry looked not only poor but bare since he only wore his silver pin, not to say he didn’t wear any heavy armor to look as noble as him. At least he was more comfortable and practical in his wardrobe, it baffled him that the northmen hadn’t already suffered from a heatstroke under all that fur, must be so impractical. 

“Well I'm glad you did, I fear I would. Come inside, my mother has been impatient about meeting you ever since she heard you were coming.” Robb teased back and waved him in to follow. Gendry step forward slowly into the tent, it was dimly lit, and much like everything else in the camp, covered in pelts and furs… and Stark banners. A large round table fit perfectly in the middle of the room and a large bed stood in the corner, it was lord Stark's private room he was walking into. Strangely it made him want to back out already, but the sound of a woman interrupted his quiet inspection. 

“My goodness lord Baratheon!” His head shot up as a fair and tall lady rose to greet him at the entrance, her long deep green dress trailing behind her and she walked up and smiled at him. Her hair was long and was seemed almost brown under the dark light, but the orange light from the fires made her red strands stand out like cobber rods. He concluded one thing from looking at her; she looked nothing like Arya, in fact was it not due to prior knowledge he never would’ve guessed they were related… he had seen her sister, Sansa, though, and it was clear which side of the family she favored now that he saw Catelyn.  

“My lady.” Gendry greeted, a bit taken back by her outburst, this time he was sure he’d addressed someone correctly however, which was a comfort to him. “Oh look at that, I never thought I would be as lucky as to lay my eyes upon you so soon, but you look exactly like your father, no wonder it was so easy for them to find you.” Lady Stark looked up at him eagerly and observed his features closely, the twitch in her hands at her side rather obvious to him as she clearly restrained herself from touching him, which made him only that bit more uncomfortable. 

Something in him had expected the comparison to Robert, they all did it after all, but he still couldn’t help but want to frown at the womam. He had to remind himself of who she was to stop himself though, leaving a bad impression on her was far from his best interest. 

Mirror, mirror, he repeated in his mind, you live your life in a mirror. “Thank you my lady, I'm humbled.” She stepped backwards with a sweet smile, “Oh don’t be, it’s my daughter that should be humbled marrying a man like you, seeing you makes me almost embarrassed to have mothered such a girl. Allow me to apologize on her behalf my lord.” Catelyn bowed her head, and for a moment Gendry felt flustered as he’d forgotten he was lord himself. 

“I-...” Gendry was at a loss for words, he felt like he was put on the spot, for one because he didn’t feel worthy on her praise, but for another because he couldn’t see eye to eye with Catelyn’s complaints about Arya. A bit embarrassed Robb’s laughter interrupted him as he asked her mother to calm herself, “Mother don’t insult Arya like, not while lord Baratheon is here, you never know maybe she’s changed her act a bit more after marriage.” 

Gendry was tempted to assure them that she hadn’t, tell them that she was as chaotic as he’d always known her to be. Sadly he figured it wasn’t exactly a thing her mother would  _ want _ to hear from him. “She better have, but I’m afraid I know my daughter better than to think marriage could change her, if anything I can only imagine the trouble she causes you my lord.”  She glanced back from her son to Gendry who shook his head. 

“Actually she’s been a pleasure to have around my lady. I tend to be around banal men most of the time, so her bluntness and free spirited personality is quite refreshing.” Gendry admitted, trying his best to match their manner of speaking, sounding so unlike himself in his own opinion. His statement seemed to have taken lady Stark by surprise and caused Robb to only chuckle further at his mother's expression. 

“Well there is a first isn’t there mother, finally someone who can tolerate our dear sister outside of the family. But enough of that now, come my lord, we shall discuss your worries.” Robb said as he plaised himself down onto a large chair and folded his hands on the table. Gendry excused himself and walked over to stand on the opposite side of the table, clearing his throat, “My lord, as I mentioned in the last letter the Tyrells have sworn themselves to the Lannisters, meaning I’ll be surrounded from all sides in a few weeks. With your delay I fear I’ll end up facing a two front battle if the rose army gets there in time, not to say I’ve been gathering reports from my south saying the Dornish themselves are rallying men… of course I don’t know for sure if it’s for offensive purposes or not given that I received a very clear letter from the Martells ealy on stating that they’d stay out of this.” 

“I understand my lord, afraid I'm a bit troubled by this myself, I’ll admit I didn’t expect lord Frey to be such a thorn in my side either. My uncle now holds Riverrun and so I’ve tasked him with forcing back Tywin and take back Harrenhal since it’s now been deserted by it’s lord, for some reason unknown… although knowing my uncles men are likely weakened I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave that task to someone else as well.” Robb explained clearly troubled, but he hid it well behind a pout. Gendry frowned deeply, if he’d wanted to do that then why was Gendry only hearing about it now? 

“I'm sorry, have I been missing something? Since when did you get Riverrun back?” His formalites seemed to have slipped away from his tongue, bringing back his accent and sharp pronunciations. Robb rubbed the back of neck, looking guilty, “A month or so ago, I was named king there...I thought you knew.” 

Thought I knew, how would I know! Gendry yelled inside of himself, a bit frustrated but not because he was angry about it being won back, it was more so because it meant he’d carried around useless worries about it. “I don’t see how I could’ve known, must have been written in your scrap letters because I don’t recall ever hearing about it.” Gendry folded his arms over his chest, and for the first time, he ignored the fact that he was standing in front of a king and and in-law. “Robb you didn’t-” Catelyn glared at her son from her seat next to him, she was at a loss for words and as filled to the brim in disappointment. 

“Must’ve slipped my mind, allow me to apologize, someone here has been keeping me rather  _ busy _ with cleaning up other people's mess.” He glared back at his mother, who retracted her eyes just as he hardened his tone. Whatever had happened between those two Gendry wouldn’t pry into, it was none of his business. 

Instead he sighed and let go of his frustration, he shouldn’t act too irrational, no great harm  had been done. “Very well, I suppose I should’ve figured something was up after I’d managed to cross their lands without no one stopping me… However this does change things a bit, because if Tywin really is gone from the castle I can hardly assume my whole army will be needed to take it back and I can turn my attention elsewhere.” Gendry spoke confidently, indicating to the matter with the Tyrells. 

Robb seemed to frown a bit, and Gendry already knew why, he didn’t want Gendry to turn his army around. Which was understandable but there was nothing Gendry could do about it, Robb may he king in the north but he wasn’t Gendry’s king yet… and something in him told him it would be a while before anyone could call themselves that again. 

“That’s understandable, they’ve betrayed your house so wanting to focus on them may be in your greater interest.” Robb breathed deeply, “Don’t misunderstand me my lord, that isn’t why I'm going to fight them.” Gendry cleafied calmly and the young kings brows rose in question, “Really now, they broke off your alliance to your house, joined the murderers of your father and-” 

“It’s true, they did swear themselves to my uncle, but I'm not my uncle and if they don’t wish to join me that's for them to decide. I won’t demand anyone to fight with me that isn’t my responsibility. I’m only going to fight them because if I don’t I won't be able to return home.” He interrupted Robb, who leaned back as he watched Gendry with a judgemental eye. 

“You really are something else lord Baratheon, I don't think I’ve ever spoken to a lord that doesn’t wish to fight for his right to glory.” Robb said in amazement, but Gendry begged to differ, “Forgive me, but I never intended to fight for any right, in fact I don’t quite get the mentality that should entitle me to such a right in the first place.”

“Well isn’t that why you’re fighting this war, to defeat the betrayers of your house?” Catelyn questioned, and Gendry shook his head, “No, I'm fighting the people that betrayed yours… while it may be true that they killed my father, that doesn’t exclude the fact that they still carry his name as much as I do. Honestly I didn’t go into this with the intent of avenging my father, as a bastard I barely knew him and what I do know I want nothing to do with… but I made a promise to lord Stark, one of which I intend to keep, and it inclines me to go to war if I am to keep it, which I do.” Gendry responded. 

Catelyn and Robb shared a silent glance between them both, one only they could understand before Arya’s mother turned her head back to Gendry and tilted her head to rest her cheek against her folded hands. “And what is that promise may I ask?” 

Gendry held his breath for a short while, he had never thought of sharing it, because he’d given lord Stark his word that he wouldn’t. However this was his family asking him, or rather his wife and eldest son. “That I would keep your daughter safe no matter the cost.” 

The room went uncomfortably quiet, so quiet that you could hear the voices from outside the tent. They just watched him again, it caused Gendry to reconsider if he’d been a bit too blunt about it, but nevertheless it had been the truth… 

_ “I know I shouldn’t ask this of you my lord, but forgive me this once and I’ll forever in your debt. My youngest daughter Arya, she’s-…she can be a mouthful, and she will likely bring you trouble in the future, but I ask you find it in you to be patient with her. She’s much more sensitive than she lets on, carries a sharp tongue and lacks in many areas… still she’s my daughter and I want nothing but for her to be safe. So will you give your word my lord, promise me that you will at least keep her safe no matter how badly she may behave. Give me your word on this and I will never ask you for anything else…- … I admire you boy, you should know this, whatever so happens in the future know that your word has already lessened my guilt.”  _

Those had been lord Starks words to Gendry only a few days before the ceremony, and Gendry could tell he would have to elaborate further. “At the day of the attack I had prior to it all known for a while that my existence was a thorn in the side of the queen and her children, having tried several methods to get rid of me before hand. And whatever lord Stark found out during his stay not only jeopardized his own safety but my own once more. I did try and talk him out of the engagement by telling him this, but he still insisted on the marriage afterwards for some reason… Knowing what it could come to I left the city as fast as I could as my word obligated me to do. King Robert is now dead, meaning they have no one to keep them from killing me… and your daughter in extension my lady. Therefore my intent with this war is not to win any crown, avenge my father or win back any rights connected to my name, I simply want to beat them before they beat me.” 

He may have kept most details to himself, like the things he did know about lord Starks finds and his assumptions he’d made about the reasoning for his killing. He stayed away from what Arya had told him about her aunt’s connection with lord Baelish and fact that he more or less felt angered about the murder of Eddard and was fueled by his word of revenge to Arya. And strangely they hadn’t even asked him further questions, Catelyn simply biting down onto her lips and formed a thin line, thanking him silently, and Robb staring blankly up at Gendry as he breathed softly. 

He blinked a few times before he nodded his head, “Very well my lord, you have my respect and blessing to turn your focus on the Tyrells. With Tywin's army now cut in half anyways I don’t think we should have trouble defeating him after my uncle has gathered more forces.” Gendry held back a snort, he appreciated Robbs gesture but he didn’t exactly think he needed a blessing to do anything especially on what and who he could fight. 

He thanked the young lord nevertheless and left the tent soon after, spending only a couple of days in the camp before heading back south. Robb shared his mothers plan of his marriage to one of the Frey daughters, and Gendry held back on telling him about Davos’ idea. He also shared that he wasn’t keen on it and asked Gendry to share this with Arya when he saw her again… but not why. They parted on the day of the supposed marriage, and Gendry had apologized for not staying to join them… but he knew now that he had been lucky. He knew at the day of his return that he had yet again run away, and he had yet again failed Arya in ways only he would judge him for. 

He hadn’t reduced any troubles, but doubled, and one more had yet to set sail from across the vast black sea. But strangely Gendry couldn’t think of anything as messages flooded his desk yet again, except how he wished he’d stayed in that damn chamber that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiho' time for another rant. 
> 
> So like promised this chapter jumps around a lot, both in time and place, but I thought it was fun to write nevertheless because; yay Sandor, Robb and Catelyn! (Although...the ending...) I have concluded that I'm gonna skip a lot of plot, simply because there's so much... like so much, and it's messy too, studying for this was hell (which is why there's proberly holes in this). Also just because I wanna write about Dany and Jon and all the others too and if I have to follow the story in a staight line we would be here forever, and not even I want that. So I'm just gonna grasefully jump over it, and you're gonna have to deal with it because honestly weaving in thing's like BOTB would just be a cluster to write about since it would need a lot of build up and what not.... and I'm lazy ( I know shocker coming from someone thats written a slow burner on 100k) Obviously I'm still going to make it so that it isn't just like a "and now we're here" kind of thing, but it will be rushed a bit and from what I can tell I don't think you lot would have a problem with it. 
> 
> On another note, I thought I should also spell out Gendry's "other" reason a bit more in this, I know he has a few, but just to make the primary ones clear. I thought about what Gendry would think of Robb and this was what I could come up with, and yes it will kind of play into how he will tackle future enterations, and I like to think he's gained some confidence from this as well. Arya as well will grow some rougher edges with her encounter as well (even though she doesn't really need it as much I don't think)
> 
> ALSO I think you'll all be happy to know the reunion is coming up next, with cake for the whole class! I'm so excited, I've been silently plotting how I could make it happen for a while now and we finally here... well I am, you haven't seen it yet because I'm not finished ;) 
> 
> Thank you for reading, tell me your thoughts like always, I love them! Until next time!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conviction, Commitment and Conclusion

Arya opened her eyes to see the ground passing in front of her, wobbly and the sound of leaves being crushed surrounding her. Her blood was rushing to her head and she could barely feel her hands as she tried to pull them in front of her, but found she couldn’t. Groaning she tilted her head and feel her cheek rest up against something warm and rough skinned, a brown horse she thought, her mind still not fully awake as her jaw throbbed and her back was killing her. 

“Awake are you little lass?” 

The voice speaking to her was unfamiliar for a second, before she lifted her gaze and looked up at the nightmarish burnt covered face of the hound. Her heart raised in her throat and she immediately found herself struggling to get free and get some sort of footing, none of which she could gain. The man scuffed at the sight of her fighting the ropes around her, glaring down at her from his horse. “Stop that you look pathetic.” 

Arya glared up at him in a sudden grunt from her throat, but he didn’t seem to really care about her murderous eyes, “What… you think you can get free? By all means go right ahead.” He waved a carefree hand and turned to focus on the road he was leading them down. Arya was fuming, but laid still for a while as she did her best to wiggle her wrist back and forth, but it got her nowhere, only hurt her strained her shoulders further, making her hold back groans of pain. she fought for a while, then stopped and gave up, she would have to get loose some other if she wanted her freedom back. 

“Where you taking me?” She snarled, and even though he didn’t turn to face her she knew he rolled his eyes at her, “What, you got a fucking concussion from that hit earlier? Your skull not thick enough already?” 

She narrowed her eyes at his insult, trying long and hard to will a way to make him choke on the back of his horse right then and there. “Yours not thin enough? You didn’t fucking tell me.” “Thought I made myself clear when I said that your  _ sister _ was paying  _ me _ to bring you  _ back _ .” He said slowly and condescending.

“And where is  _ she _ ?” She mimicked, to which it seemed the hound couldn’t handle her anymore. “By the gods you’re brainless girl, she’s most likely in King’s Landing where I left her!” he turned and yelled at her after having mumbled under his breath, his face and shiver send a shiver down her spine, but she didn’t make that obvious on her expression. Having a man like him see that she was scared of him would only bring him further satisfaction, and lead him to continue to terrorize her.

Her mind froze at the mention of the revolting crown city, just the thought of seeing it again made her sick to the bone and nearly throw up down the side of the horse. She refused to return there, she’d sworn to herself that she would never cross the golden cate that opened up that city which was built on feces and treachery. Not even her sister could force her there, besides, it wasn’t where Arya wanted to go even if her sister called for it, for all Arya knew it could’ve just as well been the queen's orders forcing Sansas hand. 

“And why would she have me brought there, she couldn’t possibly want to be there herself?” Arya asked skeptically, and he nodded at her slowly, “You’re right about that one, and like I said I don’t know if she’s even alive anymore, I left months ago… still, even if she is dead, I bet the little shit would pay a pretty penny for you, in fact you might even be more valuable than she is, you must so be excited.” He faked he excitement in his tone and Arya narrowed her eyes once more. 

“Why would that excite me?” 

“Oh I don’t know, aren’t you two sisters? All sisters has that kind of rivalry, wanting to be the most desired and all that crap.” He assumed, and Arya tightened her jaw recalling her last argument with her sister just a few days before her wedding. “I’d rather die than to stand in front of that worm again.” She swore, and the hound shrugged his large shoulders, “Lay down when you meet him then, because I need the pay of this shit tier job.” 

“For what, doesn't the crown pay you enough?” She glared. 

“Well for one you can never have enough money, and no, they don’t, because I don’t work for them anymore. I abandoned that fucker the moment they broke into the sept trying to light it on fire and murder every Stark man in there.” He admitted in a bickering tone as he snared at the thought. Arya’s own stomach formed a knot at just the mention of it, she could hardly imagine the things that’s happened that day, much less the sounds of women and men screaming as they were killed… and her father, likely fighting for his life. She’d wonders for nights on end if he’d had his sword on him that day. She’d been too afraid to ask Gendry, scared to know the truth, not knowing how she would feel if it turned out he hadn’t. 

“If that’s true then how do you know if my sister survived it?”  She asked harshly, starting to doubt him even more. “Because it was me that made sure she got out of there…” He stated it so plainly, it was like he didn’t hear himself speak, “You… saved Sansa. My sister?” 

“Don't sound so arrogant you shit, I may be a dog but I'm not as heartless as to leave a girl to be raped.” He snapped and Arya clouded the second half of his sentence, not even wanting to think of it, “You could’ve fooled me.” She snapped back, and trying her best to struggle out of the ropes again, not wanting to be near this man anymore if he was to continue to double down on the murders and torture her family had to face while she was being sent away. 

“They won’t pay you anything you know, think the prince-” “king.” The hound interrupted her making her stop ger fighting, “What?” He gazed over at her and narrowed his eyes as he saw her pull in the ropes again. “You were about to call the little shit a prince, I corrected you, he’s king now.” Arya bit down onto her lips and felt a twitch in her nose threatening a snarl. “King…” 

He sighed at her, “Yes king, it’s want a prince becomes when his father’s throat is slit at his wedding and is thrown from the alter stairs and creates a neat little puddle of alcohol filled blood in the middle of the room.” He talked down to her, his voice imitating something cheery, like how her septa spoke to her when she about was nine. Her brows slanted into harsh lines and her teeth started to grit. She never did like king Robert, but even so he was Gendry’s father, and while Gendry had explained to her that he wasn’t fond of him, she still couldn’t help but feel offended on his behalf. 

“Whatever, you still shouldn’t think the  _ king _ will forgive you just because you give me to him. He’ll still have you killed for running away, and let your corpse rot in it’s own little  _ neat _ puddle of shit colored blood.” She snapped her head at him as she struggled again, feeling her wrist pop as she pulled to hard. 

“You’re a snarly little bitch aren’t you, how the fuck does the bastard put up with you?” He glanced at her in a skeptic amazement as his burnt side loomed over her. Well he doesn’t insult me for one, she thought to herself as she held her tongue not wanting to respond to something so obviously stupid. Instead she turned her head and looked down the road behind them, pretending she hadn't heard him, and she caught him grunt as he adjusted his seating in his saddle. 

Sadly she was too angry to hold her tongue for long, so she spoke up in a mocking manner, “You know my brother is king now right? He isn’t in debt, not to say he’s winning the war as well, I'm sure he would pay you five times the coin your king ever could, not to say he would spare your life for having saved Sansa as well.” 

The hound chuckled deeply, “The other is half Lannister, they always have more money than even your brat of a brother. Not to say he’s practically still in the north and my pocket is too damn dry to make that journey, and I don’t count on listening to your wailing mouth for longer than I have to… so I don’t think so.” 

Scuffing for half a second Arya opened up her mouth again, “Then take me to my husband, lord Baratheon, he’s on my brothers side, has money, is close by, not to say he has the best reasons to pay you whatever you want to get me from you.” She argued, getting ahead of herself and apologizing to Gendry in advance. “And what reasons are those?” He asked curiously, but still acted like he was playing along in some game. 

She rolled her eyes at him and looked back at him, “Fucking think for a second, thought you said I was the brainless one. I'm his damn wife that’s as good reasons as any.” She snapped and he glared back at her with a tight jaw and a throbbing stare, but she didn’t back down from it, she would have to face him if she was to have this go her way. “How the hell is that a better reason than any of the others? The brat want you to hold you hostage to win a war, your brother wants to… well actually I don’t see why the fuck he would want you back other than that, you’re just his pinhead of a sister, he’s likely glad you’re gone, and the bastard lord? You must be down right delusional if you think he’ll as much as negotiate a price with me, HA!” 

He’s face didn’t illustrate that of amusement despite his laughter, in fact he seemed only more spiteful about the idea of going to Gendry now that he’d said it outloud. It was a mystery to Arya however, “I get that a brute like you may not know how marriages works, but without me lord Baratheon doesn’t have any connection to my brother, meaning that I'm  _ very _ important to him since he needs powerful allies like  _ my _ brother. If you dangle me in front of him, chances are he’ll most likely want me from you,  _ unharmed _ , which, if you have me, he obviously wouldn’t try to attack you when it could  _ cause me harm _ .” She cut it out in stone for him, because it was quite frankly like teaching a child not to touch fire. The monstrous man seemed to catch on what she doing however, and he wasn’t too keen on it. 

“Think you’re funny girl? The bastard lord doesn’t negotiate with anyone, especially not dogs like me, so it doesn't matter what I dangle in front of him, he’s just as likely to want you dead just as much as me, so be quiet.” Arya squinted her eyes, dumbfounded by what he was telling her, she didn’t know anyone more willing to negotiate than Gendry. He wouldn’t have let lord Tarth open his mouth if he wasn’t, sure he was upset that he had to but Arya found his reasoning to be rather agreeable. 

“He won’t if I tell him not to, ever thought about that?” 

“You? Why the fuck would he give a rats ass what you say to him?” 

Arya had to take a deep breath to not start screaming at him, her blood boiling in her veins. “How many times do I have to tell you that I'm his wife for you to get it, or did your eardrums burn with the rest of your face? It’s my job to make him change his mind, and chances are that I'm rather good at it, and if not then make him give you his word. He’ll keep it.” She explained firmly and the hound’s brows deepened and he got increasingly angry with her.

She was well aware of the rumors about his scars, and even more so that you don’t talk about them to him, still by now he couldn’t really make things much worse. He seemed to know this as well, “His word? Why would I take his word for it?” “Because on the contrary to your king he actually has values and a proper backbone, so when he says that he won't do something,  _ he won’t _ .” She couldn’t grid her teeth more than she did then, her jaw so tense she could hear her heartbeat ring in her eardrums. 

Whether it be the glare in her eyes or the frustration in her voice, the large and brick brained man eventually agreed to follow her plan. “Fine then shit, we’ll go, where his he then?” “Acorn Hall.” She breathed, her stomach loosening the knot in her stomach as relief swirled in her head, and she thanked the gods. 

“You’ve better be right.” He snarled and pressed onward, Arya ignored him as she rested her forehead against the warm side of the horse closing her eyes silently as she let her mind wander off. Letting silhouettes run over her eyelids as she fell into a daydream, the image always the same and never changing, but the sounds related to the figure had fallen from her memory. But it wouldn’t be long now. 

\-- 

Their travels were delayed by a day, making the trip to the boarder last a set of four whole days, dreadful days if you asked Arya. It seemed like the sun would never set, the days growing longer with each passing day, and her patience growing shorter in exchange for that. Sandor was a pain to be around, and she couldn’t find a person she would rather kill in those days, not even Joffrey seemed to top the fuming hate she had for this man. 

They bickered their hours away, Arya usually being the one that starts it because her sharp tongue was her only weapon on the back of the horse. She had been allowed to sit up, but her hands remained tied behind her back and her horses’ reins were still being pulled along by her capture. It took a lot of three more days after crossing the border, and half a day of asking frightened strangers for direction to the Baratheon camp. 

For a while Arya feared she’d missed them, since most people went to the obvious answer of; I don’t know, and, please don’t hurt me, whenever they laid eyes on Sandor. She couldn’t blame them obviously, if she was in their position she would likely do the same thing… granted she wasn’t so her annoyance with them all was at an all time high. she was impatient to say the least, if she could go any faster she would, although she wouldn’t know where to go. 

For the first time she was quiet, listening for any signs of soldiers yelling or horses whining. But at noon her mind finally started to race as they came into a clearing where thousand upon thousand of Stormland soldiers crowded the area inbetween black, grey and brown tents, familiar banners of the Stormlords waving through the wind, but the most prominent ones being that of a dulled yellowed color with a night dark stag. 

Arya was tempted then to jump of the horse and start running, but she knew that it would only take the man next to her a second to force her into the ground and force her into the trees again. So she sat still like a statue as they walked over, her breath hard in her chest and her eyes scanned every soldiers face as they approached, some even looking back at her. A few steps before they reached the border of the camp a couple came forward, spears and swords in their hands and they yelled at them to tell them who they were. 

She heard Sandor clear his throat at her in a gruff manner, and she flinched as she remembered what she was supposed to do. “Cut my hands free.” She suddenly demanded of him, and man narrowed his heavy eyes at her, “Do it, they won't let us through if you don’t… wanna get your money or not?” She hissed back at him, and he leaned over after just a second and cut her hands free. 

Shoulders crying from finally being able to put her hands in front of her, she buttoned up her cape and reached for her pin. Letting her hair fall from it’s bun she placed the pin where it’d always been and road up to the men, “I’m Arya of house Baratheon, I’ve come with urgent news to my husband… This is my escort, he is to be be allowed into this camp, so one shall harm him.” She turned and gestured to the infamous knight who kept a tense eye on her, but she wouldn’t turn on him now, it was far too late for that. 

“M’lady- you- erm-” The soldier seemed baffled by her appearance so far south, but Arya ignored him and turned her head back to Sandor, “Come then, or will you go back empty handed?” She scowled, and he grunted like a boar in return until he followed, ripping her reins from her hands once more and pulled her along. 

The two of them ignored the soldiers quietly following them inwards, all muttering her name around the camp as they saw the silver on her shoulder. The same their lord carried, so there must be no mistaken it they spoke, Arya kept her eyes fixated on the back of the patchy head of sandor however, “So… figured out your amount yet?” “No.” he responded lowly. 

“I'm guessing you want me to keep still.” 

“Yes.” 

“He’ll be angry you know.” 

“Yes.”  

“Still doubt he’ll keep his word?” 

Far into the camp they reached the largest one, it was dark and made off the thickest cotton, much like a northern styled tent, missing only the furs and fire out front. Both of the horses snorted heavily as they came to a stop, their legs tapping in exhaustion as he and Arya jumped off. Arya’s breath was heavy in her lungs, knowing he was only a few step away once more made her run hot with sweat and go light headed, and her eyes were so fixated on the tent that she nearly tumbled when sandor wrapped a frighteningly tight grip around her upper arm and yanked her in front of him. 

With one holding her still, and another lingering at his side, thumb ready to warp around a handle he growled lowly, “Guess we’ll find out won't we.” He then proceeded to take a deep breath and call out, his booming voice both threatening and scary in right next to Arya’s ears. “You there, get your lord out of here.” He snapped at a young soldier, who stiffened in fear and hurried into the tent with shaken legs. 

Soldiers went quiet around them, all wondering what was going on and trying to make assumption. Arya remained completely still as promised, her eyes calmly staring ahead of herself as she waited the seconds out, one, two, three, four, five, she counted in her head. Ten breaths before the curtain started to move, and slowly a strong and familiar figure exited the tent. 

Arya lost her breath as she looked at him, it was Gendry, it was reallyl him… although, he looked different. Something about the way he stood and walked seemed almost wonky to her, his shoulders hunched unevenly and his steps were heavy. His tan had faded into one with a grey undertone, and his eyes seemed almost hollow and he restrained himself from reacting as he lifted his head. He wore the same black leathers as when he’d left, only it was now obviously torn and a tad bit dirty, he’d been shaven but it must have been a few days ago because a patchy shadow seemed to have building up around his jaw again. 

Davos came up behind him, his cloak had been changed and he’d gathered sunspots on top of his head. His eyes were already wide and caught hers effortlessly, his mouth agape, opening and closing in disbelief and worry. Arya tried to convey her calmness through her eyes to him, to show that she was alright and didn’t have any fears. Gendry seemed to have caught on on that as well, because he hardly paid her any mind, but focused on Sandor behind her… he knew who he was. 

“Lord Baratheon.” Sandor nodded his head, and it made Gendry tense with anger. “Hound…” Arya caught the amusement in Sandors low gruff coming from his throat, as if he’d expected the response. “I found a little thing that said it belonged to you, thought you might want it back.” He shook Arya’s shoulder roughly, and she was close to snap at him her frown visible on her face despite trying to hide it. 

Gendry’s eyes went to her for a short moment, but she did nothing but sigh softly to calm herself once again. She had to make sure Gendry didn’t snap, if she was seen angry or hurt he was sure to react harshly and make things difficult. “Found it…?” He responded doubtfully, and Sandor echoed, “Found it…” 

Gendry’s shoulders finally straightened, and became broader as he rolled them tiresomely, “So, you brought her here because…?” “Don’t play coy with me boy, you already know why.” Sandor narrowed his eye and now it was Gendry’s time to shrug, “I have my ideas, but I’m pretty sure it’s bad behavior for a dog to disobey it’s master wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Yes, be sure train your bitch a bit better next time, it’s dangerous to have them run about loose these days, the dogs are in heat this time a year.” He responded smugly, and Arya went nauseous from the remark, she couldn’t tell who it angered more, her or Gendry, whose expression hadn’t as much as twiched, yet Arya knew almost better any anyone what anger was eating away at him. “Don't look at me that way bastard, no wonder the poor thing ran away you I’d feel horrified as well if I was so small and had to live with the likes of you.” 

“If you continue this way-” Arya hissed under her breath, threatening him, not on what she would do to him, but what Gendry would. He shut her up with a hard squeeze on her shoulder however, making her grit her teeth to hold her face still, “Enough talk, what is it you want?” Gendry interrupted as harshly as his voice was rough, restraining himself from yelling it almost seemed. 

“Gold-” Sandor started only to be cut off  “Done.” Gendry stated plainly shrugging at the taken back gaze from Sandor, “You didn’t even hear my price yet.” He chuckled in disbelief, “I don’t need your price, your wallet can only be so big, not you say you’ll take whatever I give you or lose the rest of your face.” Gendry threatened almost too calmly, the hate spilling from his tongue as he let his weight rest on one of his legs, glancing back at Davos shortly as to request something. 

“Should’ve let me finish, I need safe passage as well… on your honor.” Sandor snarled, his hands only continuing to tighten around Arya as Gendry’s expression went sour. It was then Arya could tell, she could tell he would refuse, he wouldn’t even begin to consider doing it. Panicking Arya squirmed silently and bit down on her lip, trying her best to catch his harsh stare as she shifted the weight on her legs. Begging him to just do it, to regard whatever reason he may have to kill Sandor and just let him have his way this once. 

She finally caught it, but it was empty and still covered in spite, so she softened her look to balance it out, conveying her pleas to him. She didn’t believe he’d caught it until he lifted his head from hers again and spoke behind gritted teeth, “Fine, you have my word…” Relief rushed over Arya, and a satisfied grunt escaped Sandor, “- but only for a day…” Gendry continued, “- I’ll give you a day to get as far away as you can until my men come for you… nothing more.” 

“And here I thought you said you were different from your father… but fine, it’s a deal.” 

Davos came up from behind Gendry and placed a decent sized pouch in his hands, Gendry weighed it and glanced up at Sandor, who frowned seemingly not satisfied, but Gendry didn’t seem to care all that much. Instead he tossed the gold and let it fall at Arya’s feet, sandor let go of her only to bow down and pick it up, then proceeded to shove her away from him after having a look inside.  

Arya stumbled over her sore feet, and snapped her head back to glare at the knight, but he’d already mounted his horse and turned around, “You’ve better do your job right lass.” He eyed her firmly, and Arya knew what he meant, even though she didn’t get to respond. He galloped out of the camp after that, leaving the soldiers to slowly scatter back in between the tents and ever so slowly return to normal… although still puzzled about the happenings. 

She felt dizzy from the noise, and the thought of finally being free send a tired feeling down throughout her body, making her legs heavy. Davos closed in on her, stabilizing her by holding her shoulders and looking her up and down with worry. “M’lady are you hurt? and how did you end up in the clutches of that man?” Arya waved his hands off her, “I'm fine Davos, he didn’t hurt me.” 

“But your wrist-” “Just rope marks, they don’t hurt.” She admitted, retreating her hands from his examining eyes. In the background she saw Gendry’s looming presence, not threatening, and the anger had seemed to have subsided within him… yet his stare was still just as hollow. “Davos have someone prepare a warm bath for her in my tent… I’ll be back later.” He spoke up, and in a downed sigh as he left. Sending a jab of agitation through Arya’s spine, her throat clogging up as she watched him turn from them both and left her view. 

Davos spoke several words to her that she ignored, and she was lead into the large tent. Like desert horse she chugged jug of water, and couldn’t possibly have washed herself any faster than what she did. Her hair barely soaked before she exited the tub and dressed herself, feeling strangely watched through the cloth walls and very conscious of the male voices muffled behind them. There was no holes in the tent however, she checked a few times, and she supposed a lord’s tent was as private as it gets in a camp like this one. 

She wore just her leggings, boots which a fresh white tunic, her black vest and her belt with her rapier still hanging along her hip. Restlessly she paced around the room, biting down on her lips and staring down on her boots. Anxious to know what was happening without her, and her mind may have run off with her imagination. She started to doubt if Gendry hadn’t kept his word to Sandor, or if Sandor hadn’t kept his of leaving the camp and was trying to squeeze out more money from Gendry. He hadn't seemed satisfied, so it wasn’t unlikely, and Gendry hadn’t promised with his usual sincerity either. 

The sun went down before anything happened, the area around her was now quiet and flames kindled around her, the logs bursting like broken bones as they cracked under the heat. Arya had fallen asleep on a mountain of pillows stacked in the far back of the tent, her legs curled up under her as she hid her core from the chilling wind that cooled the air around her. Her overthinking had managed to tire her out, but her eyes burst open as soon as she heard steps near the tent. 

Gasping for air she straightened her back and watched the room, having forgotten where she was until the entrance to the tent was pulled back once more. Gendry was but a dark silhouette at first glance, not fully seeing him before he was a few more steps into the room. He looked worse up close, the worst part about it was that it hadn’t changed much from since he left her. Except now his eyes weren’t as empty and cold as she remembered them being, instead they were the only part of his figure she recognised as his usual self. 

Her hands tightened their hold on the blanket beside her, her heart starting to pound in her ears once again and her breath light. A feeling crawled up at her from something deep down, a feeling she didn’t think she would be able to comfortably feel again. It was as dreadful to her as it was a desirable burning in her chest. She really hadn’t realised just how deeply she’d missed him before then, and badly she’d yearned to have his presence around her again. 

He watched her quietly, his hands in a tight fist for a while, before it went limp again and he lost all tensity in his body. Shoulders, neck and face all dropping into a similar sense of relief. With each second he melted back into himself, into the Gendry she knew and the man she’d come to cherish with a greater passion than any she’d ever met. 

She rose herself onto her legs, and brushed off her sleeves, watching in silence as he held her gaze. In two seamless steps she was in front of him, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around his neck and shoving her face into the crook of his neck. Everything about him swirled around her in and instant, to the strong smell of smoke and something so unique to only him that she couldn’t even being to describe it. To the firmness of the muscles in his shoulders, to the warmth she hadn’t been able to find any other place. Even the sound of his slow breath in her ear was her own quiet treasure, and she savored it back into her memory, because she knew now that what she had thought it sounded like was all wrong… but she was happy it was. 

His arms were wrapped tightly around her back, holding her closely as he released a deep and gentle sigh, letting go of something he’d held onto. “What are you doing here Arya…?” He asked quietly against the side of her head and let her clam onto him as much as she wanted to. She lifted her head to rest her chin on his shoulder and leaned into the side of his neck, “I couldn’t stay there any longer, Davos sent me a letter telling me you wouldn’t be able to send for me and I just…- I just couldn't.” She breathed, and Gendry stroked the back of her hair, “When were you caught?” He only continued, “North of Bitterbridge.” She responded hazily her breath rigid as she closed her eyes and focused on the pressure on the back of her head. 

Finally Gendry pulled her back and held her by her forearms, his blue eyes boring into her eyes with a serious frown, “Arya you shouldn’t have left you could’ve been hurt, what if-” “It was an accident, I was taking a break in the forest when he turned up, he wouldn’t have noticed me had he not started asking me about directions.” She interrupted him to clarify, he’d misunderstood her before, she didn’t want it to happen again. 

Gendry seemed doubtful of her however, “Even so Arya you can’t just roam around like this, especially not now, what if he hadn’t taken you to me, what if he’d taken you to King’s Landing then what would you have done?” He wasn’t angry with her just concerned, and she wished she could tell him how close his; what if’s, had been to become reality, but telling him this would only make him win the argument over her.  

“But he didn’t, he doesn’t work for them anymore so he brought me here knowing you would be the only one that wasn’t out to kill him.” she tried to explain, and Gendry fell darkened, that hadn’t been the case at all she could see. “He’s the Lannisters dog, of course he knew I’d want to kill him.” 

Arya gritted his teeth, she had to force him back out of that darkened stare, “But you didn’t…” She breathed and he looked back down at her, “No… not yet at least.” In truth Arya didn’t want to talk Gendry out of it, she didn’t want Sandor to live either, but at the moment she was more focused on wanting have Gendry’s attention for herself… without any talk of traitors, wars or killers. “Also… Davos said you wasn’t well, I thought perhaps-...” Arya had trouble finishing as she watched Gendry’s eye avert hers and a obvious regretful look flood into his eyes. 

She knew that look a little too well by now, “- What… What is it?” Her question made him close his eyes, but Arya rushed to cup his face so he wouldn’t hide from her. He sighed deeply, as if he was exhausted and was on the edge of giving up, his eyes flutter open just enough for him to look down as his head fell down slowly. Arya caught his forehead against hers, and she blinked as he rolled it gently against hers, he was tired both physically and mentally… Whatever it was he didn’t have it in him to tell her, but strangely she didn’t mind it all that much. 

For the first time Gendry was truly vulnerable in front of her, he was defeated and finally showed the honest and raw emotions he hid from her. Arya felt that she wanted to become the same pole as he was for her… she wanted to comfort him, even though she didn’t know how. So she dismissed her question and simply let her thumb brush against his cheeks, his breath escaped his lips at her touch and his eyes fell fully shut again. His hands fell from her shoulders, one of the reaching to wrap around her wrist, and for a split second she feared he would push her away. But his hold was weightless and delicate, as if he wanted to keep her hand there,to linger just a bit longer. 

Arya herself felt immeasurably calm, her heart slow in her chest and her breathing soft as she tilted her head upwards, the tip of her nose resting under the bags of his eyes. She grew hesitant and slow, she didn’t want to it to turn into what the previous night had been, but at the same time she found it hard to stop herself. So with each movement she would wait for some sort of response, whether it be a sound or movement.

She felt his brows twitch into a brief frown, but again he didn’t move against it, instead he responded with his own hand lifting to rest against the crook of her neck, making her tilt her head up further ever so lightly. He was hesitant as well she could tell, but conscious of what he was doing at least. With now only millimeters of air between them Arya’s breath began to exhale in short whiffs of air as she grew impatient of waiting, but she would do nothing this time, and only act when Gendry moved. 

She parted her lips lightly to ease her breathing, and within a single breath she was pulled in, the kiss so light on against her lips that she’d barely felt it. She let her eyes shut with ease, and mindlessly take in the feeling that ever so slowly grew more prominent. Her response was just as slow, only letting her lips move against his until she could no longer help herself, and her hands moved further back to gain a firmer grip and tilted her head so she could feel it properly.  

With each passing she grew braver and eventually the kiss had deepened enough for her to begin to turn her head. Finding a rhythm it had grown well beyond what it had started out with, her hands falling to his neck and dragging themselves around his nape and shoulder blades. His ran through her hair and down to her waist to pull her close, his touch not as firm and desperate as last time, but very intentional and sensible. She didn’t know how she could love a touch with equal intensity despite its difference in power and meaning, but she did, and she would be shameless to admit it to anyone. 

Her hands eventually found his collar at his neck, and her fingertips scraped his skin underneath it eagerly and traced it’s edge. Gendry let out a deep groan from the back of his throat and broke off the kiss, his breath fanning over her, hot and shaken as he refused to move back more than necessary to loosen his straps at his collar before taking her in once more. Arya now left to her own devices had enough space to let her hand run down his spine and scratch at it on the way up again from under his shirt. 

She had to latch onto his neck however to stop herself from tripping, as she felt Gendry’s fingers untie and yank the ties on her stomach holding on her vest together, almost furious about that fact that they were there. Cool air found her now exposed sides, and she let down her arms just quickly enough to let her leathers to fall off her. Now with a layer gone and only a thin one separating them Gendry’s hands seemed ten times hotter against her sides and stomach. Moaning since she felt the same warmth cup her chest, and with a bite on her lower lip a pit in her stomach brew into goosebumps and a sensation she’d never felt run over her spine. 

She began to fidget with his straps, but was almost too distracted on the fact that his tongue was running over her jaw with busy movements and short kisses. Having mapped out the room in her head, she was surprised to find herself being picked up yet again, and fearful when she found her back pressed against the soft pillowed ground. Letting her head drop into the mess of pillows and blankets she watched him hover above her, but only enough for him to pull off the rest of his loose leather over his head and level with her in another firm kiss. 

Mindless again, her fingers searched for the save scars and muscles on his back, and was pleased to find nothing had changed. But her reach became less and less and Gendy’s broke away from his hold on her lips, and fell down to her chin, and followed the trembling road of her throat. He ran over her collarbone and down to the middle of her chest, lingering for only a while listen to her harsh breathing before digging his fingers into her hips and ran let them glide down her still covered thigh, and kicking off her boots she bent her knee as she draped it over his bare back. 

Whatever he was doing made her stomach flip, and she arched her back to follow his movement over her stomach. Her hand could no longer reach him, so she occupied them by holding on to loose fabrics around her, but found that it was hard to have them hold still. Everything seemed to come undone without her notice, and before she really knew any better her belt was pulled from around her and legs were covered in cool air. 

She hissed as he kissed her hip-bone, Arya frowning at him for not having continued in the same straight line. Yet he kissed her inner thigh roughly and made her bite her cheeks not to react too loudly as he then inflicted a feeling so obscure and wild onto her core that her body tensed and forgot how to breathe for a moment. Her face and throat burned hot, and her grib became a clutch as her nails clawed into the pillows, her breath becoming so uncontrollable and intense that it seemed like not even her own lungs seemed to be able to keep up. Each movement from his mouth created further shock through her insides, and her feet seemed to have a life of their own as they ran over his back in an attempt to regain composure. 

It all builded rather rapidly inside of her, and she had to cover her mouth not to cry out when it became too much for her and she felt like a jug being overflowed. It was tiring, but her whole body seemed to twitch for more, like it knew it could get better. So she sat up in her seat, and roamed her hands over his head and clung her arm around it to bring him into a thankful and greedy kiss, her tongue roaming inside him without knowing what she was tasting. 

Turning them around she straddled him and pushed him down like he’d done her, earning her a stunned groan and breath when she moved to secure a spot right under the crook of his jaw. The skin there salty of sweat but so soft and managed to gain her some control over him as it locked his head in place. A deep vibration of sound moved over her lips as she ran over his throat and lingered on his adams apple, throbbing as he swallowed something thick and caressed her thighs. 

Her hands roamed over his stomach, her fingers wavering at the texture of his abs and sides. Biting her lip she couldn’t restrain herself for long enough to wait for a reaction from him before she pushed down the hem of his  trousers,  crawled up and pushed herself down upon him. Leaning on his elbows at once, he could hardly let her adjust fully before capturing her lips once and pulling her down with him as both of his hands framed her face. 

They were all quick and coated with a sense of guilt and an apologetic underline. Arya was too much in her own head however to begin to consider why though, her full focus going to familiarizeing herself with both the pain, pleasure, and lights shocks she was feeling. She forced herself to move on further, and then further, Gendry’s kisses stopped from both the gasps escaping him, but the fact that Arya could hardly breathe enough as it was. Sweat coated both of their bodies, and while Arya felt herself get carried away set noticed the restrain his his breath and before long she was thrown on her back and he was gone from her. 

Both his arms shook on either side of her head, and he looked down to hide his expression. His breath was just as heavy, if not heavier than hers and it was like that for a while, before he could no longer sustain his own weight and roll on to her back. Regaining her function of thought she draped herself over his side, and quietly listened to the beating of his heart as it melted together with her fondness of what she’d only before felt for his calm breathing. 

No further words were being spoken, no names being called or whispered underneath as much as a breath. Because that night they were nobody, they had no names and no titles, no worries and no connections to the outside word. They were only  _ them _ to each other, and they had gone way beyond point of verbal communication, because, while hazildy spoken, they had each shared a part of themselves that no one else knew off. And while not openly discussed, they had somehow still managed to reach a silent conclusion that neither could run or hide from anymore, Arya one, Gendry another… but they still meant the same in the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg finally finsihed, it's so late and I'm exhausted but I wanted this out god damn it! 
> 
> So... some action like promised (yay) so all of you thirty mf's can stop yelling about it not being fluffy enough, because I'm turning on the real heat from now on and show all of you what a good reward feels like! 
> 
> I honestly don't have a lot to say this time around, except I cut out a lot given that it just suddenly got really long without me knowing, it could be like a whole ass chapter in itself Im not kidding. BUT, I wouldn't want to do you all like that so I boiled it down to this, don't wory it was just political shit no one cares. 
> 
> Hope you liked it! (Imma gonna edit it later on when I'm not as tired proberly, maybe not.) until next time!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Affection and Affliction

For the first time in a while Gendry didn’t wake up from his sleep, not even once. He’d been comfortable and sound, his body so heavy and warm that he didn’t even have the means to move himself. His sleep was deep and dreamless, and he wished he could stay in that endless and senseless state for an eternity. There no sound or even thought could reach him, it was so quiet not even his own breath seemed to carry sound with it. He had forgotten none of it though, in fact every nerve in his body still pulsated as he slept, even if it had first passed him by as a delusion of a sort. 

Barely awake he opened his eyes to look up at the ceiling above him, it was still his dark tent, which was had amusingly enough also been the last thing he'd seen before drifting off. He’s body stayed in a sleep-like state as his mind woke up ever so slowly, so he felt nothing a for while, and barely heard anything as he continued to roam about in side his head in a cluster of empty thoughts. Gendry did his best to piece everything together in his head, but treading carefully not to anger himself by accident. Over the past week he’d felt nothing but anger and frustration, and it’d grown tiresome to continue to stay in such a mood. It started once he heard about the situation by the Twins, and even then he didn’t know where to point his anger towards. 

On one hand he grew frustrated with the young lord Stark, seeing as though he seemed to have, yet again, missed the opportunity to tell Gendry of both the plan of marriage, as well as the execution of it. Gendry had noticed Robb’s behaviour throughout his stay in the camp, and it seemed to be… distracted quite a bit, and Gendry did have his suspicion about the dark lady that entered the king’s tent frequently. He just hadn’t figured that it was more than what he had believed it to be; an intimate acquaintance, and neither did Gendry blame him… until now.

Presumably he’d been betrothed to one of the Frey daughters, which he obviously saw to break by marrying his new friend. Ruining not only a safe plan to cross the bridge, but his honor as a lord, which Gendry had expected to be stronger than that, based on what he knew of the Starks, from both observation and up-close experience. However his anger was directed towards the Freys for having betrayed their oaths of fealty to not only the Tully’s but the Starks themselves in extension of that. In the letter he’d received there was an obvious threat directed towards Gendry himself, but he disregarded that part of the message given that he was already furious enough to the point of breakage after reading the first half, having smacked several things that night out of fury. 

The anger had stuck to him like the smell of skunk, having snapped not only more frequently but also more easily at soldiers and commanders. His pulse was at a constant high, which drained his energi and his ability to judge without bias. Time and time again he considered running away, to throw away everything and find some other life across the sea, the only thing stopping him being rational thought and his moral compass. He came to yet another problem whenever he thought about having to tell Arya, but he believed himself to be lucky as it could’ve been some time before he would ever see her again. 

That of course didn’t translate into the fact that he wished he could see her sooner. His senses had grown to crave her presence more than he thought possible over the course his departure, and at a certain point he found that he didn’t even have the energy to try and push those feelings away. 

It started out with senseless flashbacks of their conversations crossing his mind at various moments throughout the day. Then those memories became long daydreams of their afternoon hours at the balcony, and he started to recall how her company made him feel. The mere reflection of the feeling made his head spiral down into his own gut, and his mind went from thinking of her mere presence to her actuality. The sound of her voice echoing inside of his ears, which melted into her small noises and later her breathing. The feel of her slim figure, to the warmth that could radiate out of her fingers and lastly to the softness of her skin. The smell of her whenever she finished training, to the clean scent of soap, which transcended into that specific one she always carried and would stick in his nostrils for hours on end after having talked to her. Even the taste of her, which he seemed unable to forget  as his mind spiraled around on the few minutes he’d forgotten himself in her and gotten what must’ve only been a sample. 

It was maddening at times.

And It was thoughts like these that made him lose his head when the flustered soldier entered his tent and announced her appearance in the arms of a knight with a facial scar. He found it difficult to decide whether or not he’d been lucky or not when he saw her, his stomach dropping into that craving upon seeing her again, yet at the same time hating the fact that she was there. One thing he did know for a fact, was his displeasure with the hound, who seemed to insist on keeping a tight hold on her throughout the conversation. Gendry could’ve killed him right then and there, were it not because Arya seemed to openly protest about the obvious fact. 

After he’d gone though, Gendry hadn’t been able to look the horrible truth in the eye that he was now obligated to tell her sooner than he’d hoped to, and sadly, just like last time… he didn’t have the courage to do so. He went away for hours, piecing it all together, to try and find a way to tell her that didn’t include ripping her heart apart… and his own in the process. At one point it just became too much for him, and he went in blindsighted hoping that the stress upon being directly faced with her would help him make something up.

But there was nothing... 

As soon as he saw her laying on his bed his mind crumbled like a biscuit, and he became exhausted in an instant, his mind drawing a blank as she came up to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Never in his life had he been put to ease so quickly, it was as if his whole body had been splashed with the purest of waters and was draped in a warm fire all at once. He realised then just how badly he’d missed her, and no daydream could even as much as compare to the real thing. He remained relieved and despite her answers to his questions he couldn’t find it in himself to become angry with her, in fact he couldn’t even find it in him to argue with her more than he tried to as her whole being ate away at his senses and mind.

So when she brought up the matter of his well being, he knew it would have to segue into the matter of her brother and mother…. he just couldn’t bring out the will to say so. His whole body rejecting her question, not wanting to go back to being a lord just yet… so it tugged at him ever so slowly, and before he knew it it had been as if he’d been pushed out over an edge with no handles to grip onto. Somehow the boiling lust in him from the previous night had found a way to grow stronger over the span of just a few weeks, making it impossible to stop himself as it was accompanied by a sense of relief and comfort that his mind didn’t want to let go of when he finally leaned in.

And so each and everyone of his walls were crushed with each passing of a hard and rough kiss. For once he didn’t care about his reasons for stopping last time, in fact he’d forgotten them completely by the point her nails ran down his spine. He couldn’t get enough of her, wanting to savor every spec of her being and cover as much ground as she would allow him to… which he found to be a lot. 

He hadn’t realised it before he laid there, watching the tent ceiling and his ears starting to pick up on the noise from outside, that he had in fact ruined everything… every plan and reason he’d certified within himself to deny him the release he’d yearned for. Still, he couldn’t figure out if he should still be allowed to feel satisfied with himself or not, because it was undeniable at this point… he was just too selfish when he came to Arya Stark, and no logic or reason could cover up that fact.

His eyes closed slowly as he felt a soft cheek move against his chest, a leg shift over his and a hand glide up his neck and onto his jaw, making him turn his head. He opened his eyes to look down onto a wide awake Arya, grey eyes gently searching his drowsy ones, her cheek was pressed firmly into the flat of his shoulder. It reminded him of how she looked whenever she crawled out of her furs to fully wake up, now only draped in a large and thick dark blue blanket…but he found it to be even more alluring up close. 

The softness of her touch against his face made him hum lowly as he closed his eyes once more to savor the heat coming from her warm fingertips, completely as he remembered them. It ran slowly over his jaw, and moved up to his cheek where she brushed his under eye with the back of her finger. She didn’t say anything for a while, simply let him rest under her touch before she shifted her head further into his shoulder, “You look better today... I'm glad.” She mumbled softly under her breath, and Gendry opened his eyes once more when her hands ran to the side of his neck and gave it a light squeeze. 

She seemed unbothered, and very contempt with herself as she watched him carefully, her eyes scanning his features closely. Given the clearness in her eyes he assumed she’d been awake for some time, meaning he’d probably overslept. He swallowed something thick in his throat while watching her, she was as beautiful now as he remembered her being in his head, the only change being her hair length. “How so…?” He spoke, his voice thick of sleep and husky from the lack of use. 

Arya seemed to notice his wish for empty conversation, so she adjusted her head slightly and tilted up at him to watch him at a more direct angle. “Your color returned to normal, and the bags has disappeared from under your eyes… You really haven’t slept properly have you?” She asked with a undertone of concern as she watched him shake his head ever so slightly, “No… been busy.” 

She frowned at his answer, and her thumb began to stroke the edge of his throat ever so slowly, “How come everytime I leave you unsupervised you end up in this state…” She mumbled softly to herself in a sigh, and Gendry huffed at her words, “Because no one else is allowed to use direct force on me.” He mumbled in response to which she grew a small smile, but not big enough for Gendry to miss the sadness in her eyes. 

“Had I known I would’ve fought a bit harder to come along you know…” She mumbed again and this time it was Gendry time to frown, knowing what the conversation would turn into, and he quite frankly wasn’t in the mood for it. “Arya…-” He sighed in a defeated tone to which Arya let her head drop again and tilt her nose further against his skin, “I know… I won’t press the issue further, I was simply worried.” She clarified, her lips scraping his skin and her breath fanning over his collarbone, creating a tensity in Gendry’s spine. 

When Gendry didn’t continue their conversation Arya shut her eyes, her lashes brushing ever so slightly over him, and he caught the soft inhale she drew through her nose. “I’m sorry you know…” Gendry had shut his own eyes, and had to fight his throat to respond to her, his tongue heavy in his mouth, “For what?” 

“A lot of things… this marriage, this war, what my father did to you… what I’ve made you do in response to that… the list goes on really.” Her fingers stopped their movement over his neck which was enough for Gendry to regain some control, “Those things… you had no part in them.” She shook her head. “I did… was it not for my selfishness and greed you wouldn’t have been pushed towards all of this, was I not this stubborn-” She paused to breathing out a shaken breath, but resumed “-... was I not this stubborn you could’ve been free from it all.” 

Gendry wasn’t aware she was able to inflict further pain upon him, his chest started to hurt and his mind was all of a sudden very awake to grasp onto her words. He wanted to move, to touch her like she did him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it with the pain weighing him down. “No… I would’ve done it regardless, you may have pushed me to do it, but it was more of a motivation than it was a reason… you didn’t force me to any of this.” He responded slowly, picking his words wisely to make sure he made it was clear as he could. 

Her hand hardened on his other shoulder suddenly and she lifted her self to look up at him, her brows in a slant, and her eyes staring at him with a saddened doubt, “But then-” She spoke up, and Gendry blinked at her gently a the drowsy cloud over his eyes finally clearing when he shook his head and interrupted her, “But nothing… I'm not doing this because you told me to, I'm doing it because I want to, although I-” he cut himself short as he could already hear the words wanting to escape his throat, and watching her now, he once again didn’t want to say it. Even if he owned it to her to tell her himself. 

Arya continued to watch him from above, eyes filling with concern when he stopped, “Although what?” she asked, and Gendry shut his eyes to escape hers. He really didn’t know how to put it into words, “Although I didn’t think it would come to this.” He spoke vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on his hidden confession, and she didn’t, because her hand glided down from his side and into pillow right next to his ear. “Gendry…” She called out in a whisper, asking him to look at her, which he did, but nearly regretted it upon seeing the stern and close to furious look in her grey eyes, turning them almost blue with ice. 

He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t, instead she took her time to force whatever feeling down upon him she’d found in her to get her point across. And while it felt like he should feel guilty, scared or even fearful of her, he couldn’t look away, it almost drew him in more than it scared him away. “I told you; I don’t make mistakes.” She said almost in a whisper as she deliberately let her other arm holding her up, drop ever so slightly and drew her in closer to him. 

He swallowed, if there was one thing Arya Stark was good at it was getting her point across to him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t tell she was sure of herself, she didn’t do anything unless she was confident that she could go through with it. Sadly Gendry also knew that she was too unware to be anything else, that she didn’t know what her confidence in her lack of errors really meant. What she’d done by allowing him to let go… embracing it even, because he was sure himself, that if she did, she wouldn’t be looking at him like that. At least that’s what he thought. 

“But you did…” He choked out, his eyes falling to her lips, they weren’t far away, he could capture them if he really wanted to… and he did want to, but if he was to keep his composure and sturdiness he wouldn’t. “By consummating this marriage you’re doomed to die if I fail to win this war… You wouldn’t really be a Stark anymore.” His breath grew thick under his voice, he’d managed to scare himself with his own words, the panic slopping in his stomach as he imagined what could become of her should he die… what they would do to her. 

Arya’s frown turned stiff and even more angry when his words had sunk in, “What does consummation have anything to do with it, I’m already married to you I can't possibly-” he had to cut her short, “Not by southern standards, a marriage is only truly valid after the bedding-” As if everything had started to fall into place, Arya’s eyes started to soften and she placed herself above him while he spoke. 

Pushing herself into a sitting position, she brought her legs onto either side of his hips, securing herself onto his abdomen, her hands folding over each other on the middle of his chest, waiting patiently for him to finish. “-So far this union has been nothing but a lie, should I fail you would be spared-”  clearly not wanting to listen to him anymore, she rose an indifferent brow at him and cut him off by tightening her legs around him. 

“Are you done yet?” 

Gendry paused abruptly and bit into his cheek, suddenly rather happy he still wore his pants. defeated he sighed at her, “Arya…” She lifted her chin at the sound of her name and lessened the weight on his stomach as she lowered her body a bit, “Gendry…” She echoed in slight amusement, it was obvious on her face that she enjoyed having him in the palm of her hand, and it was obvious on his that he was in no mood to challenge her authority. 

Moving her hand to each of his shoulders she spoke lowly as she dragged them over his arms, “You speak as if it’s imminent…. besides, I’d hoped you knew me better than this at this point-” her hands caressing his forearms before finding each of his hands and intertwining their fingers in a firm hold, her body lowering more and more. “- I was born in the north, raised in the north, and wed by northern customs…-” she breathed, not breaking eye contact for even a second when she guided both of his hands closer to her to have them rest on her lower back. 

“-So by  _ my  _ standards I’ve been doomed the moment I took you as my husband under that tree-” She her voice grew into a whisper when she let her hands fall and reach out for his face, her fingers slowly gliding up his jaw and into his black hair, nails scraping his skull making Gendry’s stomach flip. She was close now, her nose barely touching his, her breath starting to grow deeper, eyes locked in his, but he found trouble to focus on anything on her. 

“-And I’ll always be of house Stark… as much as I am of house Baratheon… I'm a Stark, and I'm yours.” She whispered as softly as she could manage, before closing the distance between them and inhaling him in a rough and tender kiss. Gendry felt almost drunk as she continued to pass her lips over his hungrily, and he could do nothing but lay there and savor her taste and let his body become numb. With each tug he felt his arms grow heavy, and eventually his hands dropped from her back and ran down her thighs and clutch onto the back of her knees under the blanket. 

Needing air Gendry tilted his head just a bit to the side, but Arya refused to let go of her hold on him and lingered on the corner of his mouth, and was about to move further down when Gendry parted his lips to speak. He hardly let out a sound before she came back to silence him, but Gendry woke up more and more as his brain seemed to figure out that was going on… and what day it was. 

He groaned in protest and squeezed her thighs to hint at her to stop, but she refused with a low moan of her own. Tilting his head back for just a moment he managed to call out to her, “Arya…” But she frowned and silenced him again, her tongue trying to find a way to tie his. He was a fool if he didn’t admit to enjoy her burst of determination, sadly his own sense of duty woke up and he had to remain determinated himself, no matter how little he really wanted to.

So grabbing her waist he finally used his advantage of strength to flip them over in one swift and clean movement. As if knowing what he was trying to do Arya’s hands made sure to keep his head leveled with her own, but Gendry had gained the upper hand now, and weaved their fingers together to remove her hold on his head, and shove them into the soft fabrics. Annoyed Arya bit into his bottom lip and pulled him down and make him stay, had she bit any harder he would’ve started bleeding and she finally opened her predator-like eyes to sneer at him. A deep groan of pain escaped him from the back of his throat, and he sighed deeply in defeat before to he moved in to kiss her one last time to loosen her hold on him as a distraction before he slipped off her. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled lowly before he pecked her forehead, and rose from the mass of pillows that was his bed. He searched for his shirt and found it laying in a discreet part of the tent where he’d tossed it. Quickly throwing it on he caught notice of Arya’s soft laughter coming from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder as he tied his collar to see her sitting upright with the blanket covering her and a crooked smile on her face. 

“What...?” He asked, picking up the rest of his leathers and continuing to dress himself while watching her. She stopped her laughter and leaned over her knees, arms brushing against the fabrics coated in their scent, “Just that you’re a weird man lord Baratheon, perhaps the strangest one I’ve ever met.” Confused Gendry narrowed his eyes at her, she was one to talk he thought in amusement, “And how did you come to that conclusion?” 

She responded by chuckling again smirking at him like a fox, shrugging lightly on her shoulder, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a man that would willingly leave a woman the way you do.”

Gendry averted her eyes as he went to wash his face, cursing at himself with each step, knowing that she was right about that. He was insane to continue this pattern of choosing his work over her in such a moment. He wished he could turn on his heel right then and there and continue to feast upon her and return her passion, but he also knew what it would mean if he did. “You’re misusing the word; willingly. I  _ have _ to leave, I have an army to lead and I didn’t exactly intent to be distracted in the middle of preparations.” he clarified and as he wiped the water off his face with his hand and glanced at her through the mirror. 

She shrugged lightly on her shoulder, and pulled the blanket tighter around her and gazed down onto the pillows, “Not my fault, you make it rather easy to do so, besides what’s so important that you have to leave right now?” She kneaded pillow where his head had been like a cat, and glanced up at him once more, a quizzical look in her eye. He sighed, “We’re going south today, I have to overlook the planning as always.” 

“South? Why?” She asked sharply her brows already in a frown, as if he’d already betrayed her… if only she knew the beginning of it. “A change of plans, the Tyrells are on Joffrey’s side now and will be coming after us soon, I need to get a head start… and get as far away from here as I can.” He finished off and mumbled the last bit under his breath so she wouldn’t be able to pick up on it, and luckily she didn’t. Instead she only grew more confused and narrowed her eyes as she studied his back from her seat. 

“What about the plan about going to Harrenhal?” 

Gendry cursed in his head, he should’ve listened more when Davos explained his letter to Arya a month ago. Quietly Gendry tried to fiddle with his words inside of his head, stitching together a sentence that could give him some more time to think, something that didn’t involve telling her about Robb. He must’ve been quiet for a while because her voice startled him, like a branch snapping in the woods he turned his attention to her reflection and shook his head. 

Arya grew wary after his lack of reply, and her voice grew a bit louder in his ears, “Won't my brother be needing you, that’s why you came all this way wasn’t it? Why would that change so suddenly?” His shoulders shook a little bit by the question, and he averted his eyes down into the bowl of ice cold water that rippled due to the drops dripping from his chin. He had the answer to the question, he could be blunt about it and tell her as it was, but knowing Arya her reaction wouldn’t a minor inconvenience that he could then just walk away from as if nothing had happened. 

Gendry had too much courtesy in him to do that, but also knowing himself he knew that if he said it now he would disregard everything else, and at that point he might as well just admit defeat to the Lannisters. He sighed and was about to open his mouth to speak when Arya interrupted him, “You’re hiding something for me again aren’t you?..” Her breath was coated with a pain he’d heard from her before, often even, and it was as if she already knew about all of it, like she could read his thoughts already processed all of it. 

He wished that had been the case, it would’ve made it all so much easier. He looked at her from over his shoulder, the pained look in his eyes reflecting her own. He walked over to her and squatted down to, his face at level with her as he reached out to brush hair away from her that’d clung to her sweaty cheek. Arya didn’t even blink at him in return, her face already stiff with that anticipating glance, as if she was preparing herself to get struck by at brick. “Sorry… I don’t mean to.” He spoke lowly, his breath catching in his throat and Arya bit her lip as she considered his words. 

She brought her hand up to wrap it around his lingering wrist, squeezing it to match the firmness in her pleading tone, “Then tell me… please.” Her small voice was enough for him to have the words linger in his throat, and he would’ve said them if it wasn’t because soldiers started yelling outside of his tent. An apology lingerd on his lips before he removed his hand from her cheek and stood up, “Later alright?..” He gave a short reassuring smile, but it didn’t have much effect on her, and he turned to leave before she had any opportunity to stop him. 

\-- 

Gendry weaved through the busy soldiers with ease, his shoulders turning in short and swift movements as he made his way towards the outskirts of the diminishing camp where tent’s and equipment were being loaded onto wagons. He got a few stares from some of his men, some were whispering under their breaths but Gendry’s mind to pay attention to them, but he has his ideas. 

He noticed Davos standing by one of wagons, scribbling away on a piece of paper. Gendry approached him and glanced at the paper in his hands before speaking, “Oh great, I feared I would have to do those myself.” Davos gazed at Gendry short from the corner of his eyes before handing him the paper for further inspection, “I figured you would be a bit too preoccupied to do them… but now that you’re here-” The old man stretched his words and started to hand him the quill and Gendry scuffed as he took it. 

“Sometimes I don’t know which one of us is the lord around here.” Gendry scowled as he continued to read Davos neat handwriting, knowing he would ruin this document by writing on it himself. “Don't be mistaken m’lord,  it’s undeniable which one of us holds the Baratheon name.” 

The comment spoiled Gendry’s mood a bit, he’d hoped that Davos would be able to cheer him up a bit, and while he could tell he wanted to do just that, it was the fewest times that a comparison to his father would cheer him up. “Perhaps I should get a facial scar myself then… change it up a bit.” The irritation was clear in his tone, which was perhaps the reason for Davos’ depe sigh, “Still pend up on that matter are you? Thought I told you yesterday to let it go.” Gendry thought back to yesterday's conversation from when Gendry had sat by himself, struggling to regain his composure after the hound had left camp. Gendry had forgotten all about the shitpile of a man, and the fact that he was brought up again did create a heat of anger in Gendry’s chest, but not enough for it to become obvious in any physical manner. 

“Did you send out the men?” He asked in return, a bit too bitterly for his taste and Davos nodded, “Ay, I did.” Gendry nodded, then handed him the finished scroll, “Then yes… I let it go.” Davos grabbed the paper slowly from Gendry’s hand, a skeptic look in eyes, but he didn’t elaborate as to why it was there, so Gendry acted as if it wasn’t even there. He turned around leaned against the filled wagon, they were up on a hill, giving a good outlook over the slowly thinning camp. The breeze there was nice as well, not too warm and not as moist as it would’ve been in the Stormlands, although Gendry did miss the sounds of distant waves that used to accompany such a gust of wind. 

“Did you talk with m’lady last night?” Davos’ voice sounded next to Gendry, and biting his cheek Gendry not only recall what he didn’t do last night but also what he  _ had _ done, in vivid detail as well. “Sort of…” He trailed of. “So you’ve told her about the Twins and  your meeting with Robb Stark… and-” 

“I did not-..!” Gendry interrupted him harshly, he hadn’t meant to snap at his old advisor, but he couldn’t handle hearing what else would come out of his mouth. So he drew a deep breath and slowed his speech, “I didn’t get to.” Davos didn’t seem to question his rash behaviour but simply continued with their conversation, “Should’ve figured as much, m’lady was likely tired, a nurse told me she was sleeping when she attempted to deliver supper.” 

Gendry cleared his throat, thanking whichever god that had spared them by having the nurse arrive sooner than he did. He nodded despite knowing full well she’d been anything but tired, “Yes well, I didn’t find it appropriate to tell her right away after what she’d been through.” “Then when will you tell her?” Davos asked curiously, as he knew Gendry would delay it as much as he could if he was allowed to. 

“When I get the time to… but I won’t push it, she’s already sensed that something is wrong.” Gendry confessed with a defeated sigh, his eyes catching sight of his own in the middle of it the view, and he’d wondered for a moment what he would see if he could see through it. “Our lady has turned out to be quite sharper than most of her caliber, so I’m not all that surprised that she would pick up on it so quickly.” 

“I’m well aware of that Davos, but I also can’t just throw some like that out at her the minute I see her. You know how she is, how it affected her last time I told her something like this.” 

Last time; the fact that he can even say that made him feel ill, there shouldn’t be a last time, nor a second time, and most definitely not a third time… yet here he stood, having too tell her about more betrayal and more death. Gendry feared that it might become a pattern, and what might come of it if it continued to evolve this way.  

“Yes, but I also know that once she senses that something is wrong she tends to overthink it, making her panic, maester Tiren has already warned us about it, best not have it linger in the air for too long.”

Gendry cringed at the memory of when she’d fainted at the letter announcing her father's death. The maester had been very clear that she was not to leave the room for some days, he never specified it further but he shared his concern with her health if she was put under continuous stress. At the time Tiren had made it seem like it’d been Gendry intention to have her faint, saying that he knew well enough what Gendry might have wanted out of making Arya ill. He didn’t know why of course, but he’d learned long ago that Tiren was an odd man despite his profession and that his words was often nothing more than that… words, he talked to talk. 

“And I won’t, you have my word… still, there are such things as bad timing-” Gendry explained, and giving yesterday's circumstances he really couldn’t think of a worse timing. “- I’ll get it sorted alright, I just need some time. There’s been too many unexpected things happening and I feel inclined to be just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Davos sighed, “Lad remember what I told you, being a lord-” Gendry rolled his eyes for the first time in awhile, and finished Davos’ sentence before he even got it out, “Means living for others, yes thank you Davos I'm well aware of that by now, but I'm not made of stone you know, and I’d appreciate it if I could live for myself every once in a while.”

 Davos looked askance while Gendry scuffed, he’d clearly used that phrase one to many times, despite it being true, but Gendry also knew that he wasn’t born to be a lord either so it wasn’t like his sense of lordly obligations and pride was oozing out of his pores. He was a selfish, greedy, selfless bastard at his core and that part of him didn’t live for anyone but him. So it didn’t matter how much Davos urged him to quicken up his pace and finish a job as a lord, he would always prioritise his own judgement, and his judgement told him that telling Arya now would not only be an bad idea, but a horrible one. 

“Very well, as you wish m’lord…” 

“I won’t go searching for a fight you know…” Gendry spoke up a while after, watching his men as they started to line up. Davos held his breath silently at his side before he nodded, “You’ll head for Storm’s End then?” “If it’s possible, The Tyrells have had a long time to gather their men so I wouldn’t be surprised if it’d unavoidable at this point, not say I’ll be going against a Tarly… what were their words again?” Gendry asked flipping through the pages in his mind, but he never really cared much about such formalities. 

“First in battle.” Davos told, and Gendry nodded, “Right, well if that's the case then I’d be surprised if lord Tarly didn’t take it very seriously… In fact, I might even become a bit disappointed if I don’t see him.” he shrugged lightly and yawned, he was still tired and he even started to question if he could ever get enough sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and Hello to all of you! 
> 
> New chapter, very exciting I know, and it's a sweet follow up to what we got last time, I loved writing this one even if it is a bit shorter and usual but that's simply because I'll proberly have to balance it out with longer ones in the future. I was slow on this one but I've also been a bit busy, plus I'm re-reading all of the previous ones because I've looked at them and I cringe a bit too much due to all of my mistakes so I'm ever so slowly making my way through all of them again. 
> 
> So next chapter will be Arya getting the news from Gendry in her POV, and we'll see how their trip through the reach will go and see if Gendry is right. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this story, please share your thoughts on this one like always, until next time!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New spite and New regret

Arya quietly dressed herself in a mindless manner, har arms and legs moving on their own as she remained in a automatic state. Her heart had been pushed up into her throat since Gendry had left the tent, and she had already within ten seconds tried to get herself to stop him before he was too far gone. She felt stupid for not having asked earlier, it wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed his distant behavior and that looming cloud he always seemed to carry whenever he needed to tell her something. It was all too familiar for her to have missed it, but perhaps that was all the more reason for her to continue to distract herself last night. 

She knew that feeling, that face and that presence that would follow Gendry when he was troubled, or more specifically when he was troubled on her behalf. It gave her chills each time the words emerged in the back of her mind, those; what-if’s, those speculations in the bottom of her heart that was all too predictable to be real. Arya refused to listen to them though, refusing to admit to it being as much as even a possibility. 

So she forced herself to wait for whenever “later” was, she wouldn’t question it until then… but then again- no. No she wouldn’t do it, she wouldn't even as much as seek out the answer on her own, given that knowing Gendry no one else probably knew what it was exactly. Except Davos perhaps, but Arya knew better than to even as much as consider asking him. Not only would she be refused an answer, but she would likely have to suffer under a long preaching about how it was Gendry’s responsibility to tell her and that she would have to be more patient. 

For a while Arya tried to piece together what little Gendry _had_ said about their plan about going south, but it made no sense to her. No plan or simulation she made in her head would line up with a reasonable argument for them to suddenly go south after having made all the effort to go north… well- _No_ , no reason at all. 

Arya looked into the water bowl, watching her reflection an tried to see whatever Gendry had when he’d stood there just a moment ago… but there was nothing but her red flustered lips and messy hair. Annoyed she scrubbed her face clean and patted down her chaotic strands of hair, and bit into her cheek as she turned to leave the tent in disappointment, but something stopped her midway. In the corner of her eye a mass of paper laid piled up on a round table, a candle burning in the middle of it, and an ashtray filled to the brim with paper ashes and crisp wax stamps. 

In the middle of the tray however was a deep blue half melted wax stamp. It was covered in dust and black ashes, so Arya couldn’t make it out from where she stood, but for some reason she felt an irresistible pull towards it, and before she knew the small piece of old melted wax was in her palm, her fingers brushing off its surface. It made her stomach sink and her throat clog up as she continued to feel the surface of the dried residue of what was left of that sigil that’s been pressed into it. 

Her throat went dry and her mind started to race, and biting down into her cheek she rushed out of the tent. The soldiers around her paid her no mind like always, and pretty much every tent that had covered them yesterday was now gone. It was all one giant mud field, but it didn’t make it easier to find what she was looking for, and with each breath a fear that had planted itself in her stomach grew a little more

She had to find Gendry at once, but she didn’t know where to go, and her mind was in too much turmoil for her to figure out where to start. So she ended up walking around the edge of the forest for a while, keeping to the shadows as she didn’t want people to find her. She kept a watchful eye on the wax the entire time, having found a large boulder to rest on top of Arya continued to grow even more worried with each thick and heavy breath that escaped her lungs. 

Arya was rarely scared, nervous perhaps but never truly fearful… not like this at least, it was a different fear from the ones she’d experienced before. Not like the time in the Winterfell when she was announced to be married off. Not like the time she met the King, met Gendry or nearly drowned in her tub. Not like the time she started to have feelings for him either, and not even close to the one she felt when she read of her father's death. It was nothing like any of it, because this time it wasn’t a fear of the unexpected, it was a looming and slowly growing fear that she was constantly preparing herself from. 

She had yet to know what that fear contained exactly, or why she would be scared of if in the first place, but she still knew that it was fear… and she was scared of it. Arya heard a horse close in on her, but she doesn’t look up to see who it was, nor flinches when the leaves starts to crunch as a person steps closer to her. Even before giving the person her attention she could tell that it wasn’t a person she would exactly be thrilled to talk to, and the annoyance in the light tone that erupted the person as they cleared their throat only accentuated that suspicion. 

She closed her hand around the seal before glancing up with a dead and opposing stare. In front of her stood the tall and familiar arrogant face of Ronnet Connington, his brow sharply arched in a presumptuous and askanced glare. He wore the typical sliver like southern knight armor, his two mirrored griffins sigil ingrained into his chest plate and a red cape hanging over his right shoulder and back down his back. Every hook and hinge was made of pure gold and detailed with fine ingrainings, it matched the reins of his horse perfectly, exactly the immaculate and egoistic style she would’ve expected from such a self-centered bastard. 

Strangely all Arya could really think about when she watched him was how perfectly fit he would’ve been for one of the roles in Sansa’s stories and daydreams. It was almost a shame that his personality was so rotten and gross in despite his royal looks, of course by now she'd lost all the questions she’d had for his wife as to why she decided to marry such a mut. For one she might not have had a choice in the matter, but given her age and the innocent gaze she’d radiated throughout her stay at Storm’s End Arya was almost certain that the young girl hadn’t even protsted either.

Arya was all too familiar with such large and dreamy eyes and what they fantasized about, she was raised in the shadow of ones herself. 

"Looming at the edge of a forest isn’t the best place to be so close to an army my lady, people could mistake you for something else you know.” Ronnet spoke up, his voice thick with pride, as if she should thank him for having come to her apparent rescue. Arya hardly blinked at his comment however, but replied with a simple “Why are you here?”  in a dry tone to contrast his arrogant one.

The long red haired man paused in his chin jolted down a bit as he shot her a puzzled look, clearly not expecting her dismissive tone or her lack of respect and manners. If she hadn’t made her hate for him obvious before she was sure to do it now, she didn’t like to be misunderstood by such people. “Well why else, my soldiers reported a figure at the edge of the forest-.” He explained gesturing to the still busy camp in the background. 

“Exactly, so why are you here?” Arya repeated cutting him off, and made an inward scuff when Ronnet scowled at her as he was quite visibly holding himself back from either saying something rude to her or hurting her. Whichever one it was Arya was confident in one thing; he didn’t have the guts to do either. 

“You’re humorous my lady, I can see why lord Baratheon holds you in such high regard, what jokes might you not throw at him hmm?” Ronnet said sarcastically, having clearly taken offence to her hidden insult. Arya rolled her eyes though, whatever he must say to save his pride she supposed because she sure as hell wasn’t joking. She straightened her back hand placed a hand behind her to support her as she rose a leg and rested her chin on top of her knee. “If you say so… although I don’t intend to be, but I find that I'm often mistaken as such."

Arya was quite firm as she stared up into the young knights green eyes, she saw the anger boil into them, and she felt a tingle of satisfaction which lead to a smirk creeping up on her lips, that she then turned into a fake smile. “You should head back Ser Ronnet, since there’s no threat to be dealt with.”  

Ronnet didn’t move despite her gesture with her hand, he simply stood there and glare at her with a tight grasp around the pommel of his sword. Arya took note of it, but it didn’t the effect on her as he might have hoped it to have. Within a soft sigh and a blink his posture relaxed once more and he returned her soft smile, which caused Arya to quickly drop hers, “You should come back with me my lady, I'm sure our lord won’t like that you’re out here… all alone.” His deep and rasp tone made Arya narrow her eyes. 

Staring at him she saw nothing but insincerity and spite, she found it amusing just how bad this man was at hiding his intentions, and she disguised her amusement in an smug  huff, “I didn’t take you for a man who’d be concerned about lord Baratheons matters.” Ronnet shrugged his shoulders, the chain mail rattling underneath the armor, “Who’s to say I am?... but of course, he’s my overlord so I’ll have to adhere to him one way or another.” He responded, his chin finally rising to meet her gaze head on with that same arrogance as before.  

“Adhere to him? That's a bit rich coming from you don’t you think?” Arya rolled her eyes as she glided down from the rock, and dusted off her hip before looking back up at the red haired knight. He seemed to know what she was getting at, but he didn’t drop his chin despite the fact that Arya had touched a sore spot. “Pardon my lady? I'm afraid I don’t-” 

“Yes you do, why on earth would a person like you even as much as pretend to like lord Baratheon, much less _adhere_ to him?” Arya cut him off, glaring up at him with a narrow and hateful glare, and he returned it just as firmly his jaw clenching hard before he spoke up. “Because he’s not the only one who needs to clean up after a family member, and I’ll gain nothing from opposing him now, not to say I have my honor on the line here my lady.”

Arya felt her blood boil and a bitter taste lingering on her tongue, creating this urge of wanting to spit him in the face so he could taste her hatred towards him. She felt her hands tighten around her rapier at her side, and a tingle in her wrist as she had to fight to restrain herself from pulling it out. “And this honor wasn’t on the line when you tried to kill him was it?” Arya questioned, hate spilling from her tongue as she controlled the urge to strike him. 

Ronnet did nothing but stare at her for a moment, before he shook his head, “If you’re referring to what I think you are then I'm afraid you’ve been misinformed, but I won’t deny that had my hopes up.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his words didn't come as an surprise to Arya, “That's brave to admit in front of me don’t you think?” she responded, to which he looked down at her and gave a indifferent tilt to his head. 

“No, you think he isn’t aware, let alone think I'm the only one who had their hopes up back then?” Ronnet countered with a doubtful frown, Arya paused before responding, Gendry didn't seem very bothered back then and she thought it unlikely for him not to have known such a thing. Especially because no one seemed to really hide it. 

“Why…?” She sighed, and Connington shifted his stance, “Why? You ask me why we had our hopes up to get rid of an inexperienced bastard as our overlord?.. Forgive me my lady but you off all people must know what it means to be a ruling a great house, what responsibilities you have and what a consequence can follow from a wrong decision. Siince when is  hoping to be placed in better hands suddenly a bad thing?” 

“Why only hope then… if you were so doubtful why only hope for a poison to work an not kill him yourself?” Arya clarified, keeping her anger to a minimum as she felt a sudden urge to strangle him for having said what he had. Even more so because she understood his point. Ronnet crossed his arms over his chest and scuffed at her as he rolled his eyes, “Because as I said; I have to clean up after someone myself, so putting me in that sort of trouble would be utterly senseless of me. Besides, I'm a knight, more than a lord, so I don’t want to be mingled in with their trivial rivalries and power struggles just to get rid of some bastard.” 

Arya supposed that would make sense, and Gendry had told her that Ronnet wasn't the man to stick his neck out if he knew what could follow such a crime, if not from the other lords then from the king himself. But Arya couldn’t help but still be irritated with him though, because despite it all he still insisted on being a thorn in Gendry side, one she insisted to pull out at all cost. Perhaps it was that thought that brought her to finally pull the rapier from its scabbard and have the needle thin tip of it gently press up against the soft skin beneath his chin. 

The red-haired man held his breath as his head tilted upwards at the feel of the cold metal against his skin, perhaps fearful that she was willing to draw blood if he didn’t. She did have the guts to puncture the skin if she really wanted to, in fact she realised then that she wouldn’t mind if she saw the bloody tip of pressed against the roof of his mouth instead. But much like him she didn’t want to trouble that would follow. 

“Good… keep it that way, because I don’t want to clean up the mess I’ll make if you do…”  

She saw Ronnet swallow something and stiffened underneath her cold blooded stare, retreating her blade when in a swiftly move before she started to head back to camp. Not being able to stand being in his presence anymore. Arya was about to enter the open field when she heard a clearance of an uncomfortable throat, and heard Ronnet speak up once more. 

“You’ll have to point that blade another way if you want to prevent a mess my lady, with us going south again to face the Rose army and the Starks doom at the Twins I won’t need hope to know that lord Baratheon is as good as dead already.” Ronnet looked at her over her shoulder his brows twitching when he noticed Arya stiffen in her spot but not knowing why her shoulders shuddered.

“Ah… did you perhaps not know? My apologies then, I was under the impression that lord Baratheon didn’t keep secrets from you since you seemed so sure of yourself… Then again he doesn’t seem to want-” Ronnet started to blabber again and coated in rage Arya snapped at him, “ _Watch_ your mouth ser Connington.” She didn’t look at him nor listened for a further reaction, because she too busy bracing herself for the impact that would eventually come, as her stomach seemed to sink further and further, making her dizzy and unable to see clearly as her everything suddenly came crashing around her and her ears started to ring. 

She covered her mouth as her swirl from her gut suddenly sent whatever left she had in her stomach up into her throat, threatening to escape her if she didn’t get herself together in an instant. Pearls of sweat ran down her spine and arms and she grew short of breath the longer she covered her mouth. Arya picked up on a muffled sound behind her, but was too distracted to care or why to figure out what it was exactly before she felt her nails dig into palm and the wax cringing to her skin. 

A sour taste had coated her tongue by the same to started to breathe somewhat normally and she felt as if she’d been in the face, her jaw numb and her ears burning up as they seemed to consistently ring. She didn’t know the exactly moment she’d left the field, and entered camp, she also doesn’t recall how she managed to find him when she did. The only thing that was clear to her was the fact that the sun was hanging low by the time she pushed past one of the surrounding soldiers and closed in her target. 

He was distracted by whatever and whoever was talking to him at that point, Arya could’ve sworn Davos was there but she didn’t recognize the other faces, nor did she really hear them when they started to mutter her name and barely felt it when someone yanked her shoulder to pull her back. Arya only saw herself get pulled further away from him which made a breath clog her throat, and she was about to drag out her blade when the weight was pull off her and she landed in the mud. The blow both a relief as she felt her lungs loosen, but at the same time hurt since she could’ve sworn she felt her wrist snap. Her head pounded by the time she looked up at locked with his eyes, both as soft and gentle as they were painfully cold and chilling to stare into. 

Gendry was in front of her within three steps, maybe four she couldn’t really tell due to disorientating coat of haze that clouded her sight. She was half way up on her legs again when she felt a firm and warm grasp around her upper arm, which lifted her to the point where her legs though they could give up beneath her, and something inside of her knew that she had to push it off her if she wanted to remain conscious. 

Arya took a moment to regain her balance and listen after the muffed rasp of Gendry’s voice, when her head snapped up to look at him again, and her she heard herself speak, “I need to speak with you.” She breathed her stomach threatening her once more as she had to bite her tongue to hold back the burning in her eyes. She saw him part his lips for a second, and then take a quick glance again before her ears popped and she heard him respond to her plea, “I told you-” the remaining of her anger from when she’d spoken to Ronnet might still have been on her tongue because she suddenly snapped at him, making him freeze in her spot and stare at her as if she was an hostile dog. 

“I can’t wait for whenever _later_ is to you… I need to know now!” She saw herself yank onto his cuffs, and felt him flinch and freeze at the rising of her tone. Gendry then relaxed in his stance, and she glanced back up in time to see him blink at her and then glance over his shoulder. Catching the heavy sigh that escaped him, she was about to speak up yet again when he twisted his wrist free from her hold and returned the firm grasp he’d had on her upper arm and started to pull her away from the crowd. 

\-- 

Gendry felt his heart pound firmly in in his chest, and ignored the increasing pain that started to build in his chest from the moment she’d been pushed to the ground like a bag a flour. She was heavy in his hold, and he could tell that she had trouble keeping up with the pace he was setting for the two. Gendry had no intentions of slowing down however, he needed to find a private place where they couldn’t be here, but not far enough so that it would take him ages to return. 

Frustration ate at him, as much with her as it was with himself and the situation. For one because he really didn’t have the time to have his discussion with her, but for another because he wanted to have it, but he’d already known for a while now that fate wasn’t exactly on his side when it came to these things. The army was ready to leave, and given the look Davos gave him before they left, it seemed he would make sure they did. 

He would have to distance himself from that however if he was to explain himself properly to Arya, who’s breath seemed to run heavy by the time he lead her down a slight ditch where a tiny stream ran through the field and into the nearby forest. The water ran dirty by now, most soldiers had bathed in the pond up on the hill there the stream springed from, the smell wasn't exactly refreshing as well, but it was faint enough to be ignored. Gendry looked over the small slope, taking note of the distance and the sound the marching steps from the soldiers as they seemed to have begun their march south. He thanked the gods in his mind for a second, before he looked to Arya who quietly collecting herself and doing her best to tense. Eyes closed and breath running steadily, Gendry took a moment to overlook her, his heart dropping at the sight of the blue sticking out from clenched hand. 

Gendry didn’t want to make conclusions just yet, but whatever Arya had in her hands was the reason for her up-roar, and his swallowed his previous mentions of thanks and turned them into a curse. He silently contemplated whether or not he should start speaking, and if so what exactly he should say. “Is it true?” Arya spoke up suddenly, clearing her throat as her voice seemed to break beneath her words. 

Her chilling tone made Gendry flinch, and his head shot back to hers with wide eyes and a confused brow arched as he tried to piece her vague question together. Although it wasn’t very vague to him, he knew what she was asking, but it was the simple fact that he hadn’t expected her question to be as blunt as it was that made him hesitate to answer. Arya must’ve realised just how ambiguous her question sounded, because she ran a hand through her sweaty black-like locks and sighed, rephrasing her question one more time. 

“My brother… Is he really-” Arya paused, her hands beginning to claw at her side and she chewed her bottom lips as she tried to say the things she couldn’t bring herself to. She shook her head vividly for a brief moment and inhaled sharply, and Gendry started to recall how it all started last time and grew increasingly worried. He was about to interrupt her when he cut him off why finishing her sentence, “- He didn’t cross the Twins did he?” 

Gendry’s stomach flipped for a moment as he cursed inward. That was one way to phrase it he supposed, although he wasn’t so sure he favored it compared to the clean hit in the face it would’ve been to simple say the harsh truth of what it was… he was dead. “No… he didn’t.” he’d kept his voice low and calm in response, but it still seemed to have the same impact as it would’ve had had he just yelled at her. 

Arya’s shoulders shook for a moment, before she started to nod like a confused old lady, her hand tightening around the blue in her hand once more. “Did you... umm- did you-” Gendry was impatient with her, and while it might to have been his right to push her the way that he did he could still that she needed answered quicker than she could ask for them. So he cut her off quite sternly and a bit loudly for his original intent, “I haven’t known for long no.” He cleared his throat and adjusted the tight collar around his neck, he’d seen her recoil from his tone so he was quick to change his act before he spoke again.  

“Arya… who told you?” He finally asked, wanting to know what exactly he had to clarify. Her shoulders tensed for a second and he hard her scuff, to which he instantly knew he wasn’t going to like it. “Ser Connington…” Gendry would trust his gut more if he was always this precise, because he instantly felt his blood boil and he let the insult slip from his tongue, “I'm gonna kill him.” 

Sadly now wasn’t the time to commit such a sin, and he glanced up at Arya once more for a brief moment before he straightened his back and crossed his arms over his chest. “you went north-” Arya tried to speak up, but Gendry silenced her with a brief raise of a finger, he knew were she was headed and he wasn’t about to have her create a scenario on her own. 

“I went north with the intent to plan for the attack on Harrenhal, he’d been delayed without word for a few weeks and I wasn’t in the position to wait for a responds… so I went with just a handful of men and met with him yes. When I got there he told he that not only had the Lannisters left Harrenhal but he’d already taken Riverrun back a month prior. While there wasn’t inherently a problem with that, it did mean I’ve wasted my time and I decided then that I would head south and deal with the Tyrells, and he agreed stating that he had too much trouble with the Freys to-” 

“Frey…” Arya whispered, her tone stiff and rattled as she stared down into a blank space on the ground. Gendry stopped his explanation and nodded, a hit of perplexity in his frown, “Yes Frey, apparently they had struck a deal of marriage between your brother and one of lord Frey’s daughters… one he broke to marry another and offered your uncle as compensation.” Gendry said with a hint of regret as he thought about the all the anger and frustration he’d carried throughout the weeks he’d thought about the lord's lack of duty and judgement.  

“Marriage?!” Arya erupted her throat coarse and dry, and Gendry could tell that her anger was transending into an unexpected fury. Gendry simply nodded her way and let her silently curse at whatever thoughts ran through her head, “Who did he marry… my brother?” Gendry had to shrug this time, “I don’t know, I never met her, only saw the few times she would go to his tent at night.” 

Arya exhaled deeply through her nose and nodded, “Must’ve been some woman to have swayed my brother… if only he wasn’t such a hypocrite.” She mumbled the last bit, but it didn’t pass Gendry’s attentive ears, the lack of sympathy started to create a bubble of concern in Gendry’s throat. Her reaction was so different and unexpectedly far from what he’d anticipated that it was alarmingly concerning. No tears spilled from her eyes, and no sobs escaped her throat, she stood straight with only her hands shaking restlessly at her side and fingertips wiping themselves clean in her palm

“ Arya are you-” Gendry started, taking a step closer to his distracted wife whose eyes snapped up to meet his with a burning frenzy of rage that he hadn’t seen anyone match before. “My brother should’ve known better than to trust Walder Frey, much less agree to such an arrangement to begin with if he was going to make the foolish decision to break it.” 

Taken back Gendry stared at her in disbelief, he didn’t think she was capable of speaking ill of a family member, and most definitely not Robb Stark. “It was your mother that arranged it from my understanding, but Arya-” It was almost as if she didn’t want him to speak, because she kept responding in ways that seemed too far away from the Arya he knew. This time it was her manner of freezing and her brows twitching by the mention of her mother, making Gendry want to eat his words up again, while at the same time wanting to yell curse words for having not told her sooner.  He didn’t know what Connington had told her, and it made it all the worse since he not only didn’t know what she knew, but also because he felt foolish for having let it happen. 

Arya nodded silently before taking a shaken breath and regaining her composure, she seemed insistant to keep a cool leveled head, if only she knew how much more excruciating she was making the whole situation for Gendry in doing so. “Of course it was…doesn’t change things though, my mother of all people should’ve known not to trust lord Frey.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?-” Arya echoed, a scuff on her face as she looked almost amused with his question. “- Because Walder Frey is notoriously known for being hooked up on old feuds and wouldn't trust a Tully or Stark even in his dying moments thats why.” Arya spat, and by now Gendry had been so unnerved by her sudden change in temper that he was almost uncertain if he wanted to continue to explain himself at this point. 

“Arya listen to me, had I known about such things I would’ve tried to stop your brother, but he and lady Stark assured me numerous times not to be concerned. Not to say that I didn’t stay long enough to be able to do anything about it even if I did know.” He explained defeatedly and watched Arya chew on the insides of her cheek before shot him a hardened glare and relaxed her shoulders. 

“Yet lord Frey knew you were there…” She countered, and for some reason Gendry already felt let down. His change of demeanor might also have been obvious to her since she slowly held up a blue half melted wax seal, one clearly taken from his desk, but also one he remembered clearly. On the half that had remained hole was the deformed, yet still very clear, remains of the Frey sigil, a tower now slanted and having lost its twin. 

Gendry’s expressioned turned stiff within a blink of an eye, his brows set it a harsh frown, “You don’t think-...” Gendry cut himself short, scared of the reaction he might get if he finished that thought, much less what his own would be if it was true. He saw her hesitate before and eyes waver before her hand clasped down over the seal once more, letting her arm fall to her side like an anchor. 

She was quiet for a moment, a moment that seemed long enough to make Gendry’s blood start to heat up beneath his skin… she had thought of it, and Gendry couldn’t decide on whether or not to feel angry or guilty. “Then why did he send you a letter?” She asked almost as firmly as he had, and in that moment he chose anger. 

“To warn me, spite me, simply _tell_ me. It’s been blatantly obvious by now that I have a connection with the Starks, so why on earth wouldn’t he send me a letter telling me what he has done?” He felt his voice resonate around him, and while it came off as rather aggressive, he also couldn’t believe what Arya was surggesting. Arya didn’t flinch at his uproar, but her eyes did soften and started to fill with a sense of repentance that he didn’t think he’d ever seen from her. Nor had he never seen her become as small as she had when he’d rolled his shoulders in frustration, and looked down at her. Her breath seemed to pick up in her throat again when she noticed him clench his jaw and while he wished he could calm himself quicker, his stubbornness refused him.

Still, as an attempt to do so regardless of his flaw, he let a hand glide down her arm to pick up her hand and take the seal away from her. He inspected it for a short while before he looked into her still fixated and reddening eyes, “I burnt the letter as you might have noticed, so you’ll have to take my word for it this time around… I do it with all unwanted letters, and given that I didn’t expect to meet you again so soon I didn’t think to keep after I’d read it.” He stuffed the seal into his pocket, having to remind himself to dispose of it completely afterwards. 

Arya was silent while she listened to him, and had by the time he looked down at her again closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate on something within herself. Gendry didn’t say anything to break her focus, and a moment later her forehead was pressed lightly against his chest, having let her head fall against him and her shoulders shudder as she drew a shaky breath. It wasn’t like Gendry didn’t find her lack of faith understandable, she was only looking for someone to blame right now, but that didn’t remove the fact that he was feeling offended by her subtle mistrust. He sighed as he let a heavy hand fall over the back of her head, and gently stroked the top of her head with his thumb. 

She didn’t cry openly, but for the remaining days of their travels south, she kept quiet and was distant to everyone around her. That included Gendry, who despite the discomfort put up with it since he knew better than to speak to her now. His anger had subsided just as quickly as it’d come, he didn’t have the energy to put up with such an emotion anymore and he couldn’t choose a reason to hook himself up on the feeling either. He wasn’t unattentive to her sobs late at night, in fact it would more frequently be the reason he woke up to begin with. 

He simply pretended not to hear them though, knowing that she had her reasons to hide them to begin with. She clung to him like a child in those moments, it was strangely also the only time she would actually touch him, and while he didn’t wish to he concealed the urge to comfort her and pretended to be asleep.

Within a week they’d reached the borders of the Reach, and within several days after that the scouts had reported mentions of the Tyrell army. Gendry entered the large tent one early morning and let out a deep sigh as he opened up a large map of the area. “We’ll meet them within a day, two  if we’re lucky…” He stated to which Davos gave a uncertain response, “And we are sure that it is lord Tarly’s forces?” 

“Yeah… a couple of the scouts have said to have spotted him, not that he’s hard to miss.” Gendry clarified, to which Rolland Storm hammered the table they all stood around and with a large grin on his face gave Gendry an excited gaze, “Then we’ll take them head on, show them that we’re more an capable of beating them like we’ve done before!” 

“Have the dry air sucked the moisture from your brain? We can’t win against the Tarly or Tyrell forces when they outnumber us, not even Robert Baratheon could defeat Randyll Tarly on an open field what makes you believe our lord can take the both of them on?” Ronnet spoke up, his patronizing tone stiff in the tent as he glared at the bastard of Nightsong. Who despite his immense difference in size compared to the red-haired legitimate knight, didn’t return the glare nor challenge him in return. 

That didn’t stop Gendry from doing so however, who at this point hadn’t so much as been willing to share the same air with the fellow young lord. Even now Gendry could imagine the satisfying feeling of smashing his face into the corner of the table and break his so called perfect jaw. “I won’t take them head on… and I won’t have to either.” Gendry stated calmly as he continued to look down at the map, his eyes scanning it closely as it has done hours before. 

“What do you mean lad?” Davos asked from his spot across the table, and Gendry glanced up for a moment, “Lord Tyrell won’t be joining obviously, and they couldn’t have spent much time gathering troops if they are already here… the scouts made an estimation of only forty to fifty-thousand against our sixty, so I wouldn’t call us outnumbered exactly. Of course that doesn’t that change the fact that we’re unlikely to win even if we take them head on, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Randyll Tarly had already through a step ahead.” 

“So then how will you get around them my lord?” Rolland spoke up again, to which Gendry pointed to a dark green spot on the map just a few miles from the field they were likely to meet on, before folding his arms over his chest and cleaning back up, “He’s less likely to be as cautious if it seems like we don’t have the numbers…” 

“You want part of our forces to hide in the forest?” Rolland asked again and once more Gendry shook his head, “No, it’s too predictable to do that, it's likely that lord Tarly have already thought about doing it himself… The forest is located on a hill, one steep enough to hide more forces behind it, should he decide to try and flank us… our men will prevent that from happening by taking them on before that, it’s not far, so even if he doesn’t do as I predict he will, it would still be viable for us.” 

The tent grew quiet as the listened to Gendry’s proposal, and while Gendry knew that they couldn’t directly oppose him, he hadn’t expected it to be accepted either. “Very well, who should be in command my lord?” Davos asked to which Ronnet cleared his throat and Gendry grew disputed with the sound of him and cut him off just as he’d opened his mouth. 

“I-” 

“Ser Rolland… I’d hoped you would be reliable enough for the task?” Gendry looked to a baffled bastard knight to nodded his head gracefully in return, “It’d be an honor my lord…” 

“Good… Ser Ronnet I hope you remember what we've established as your place to be a few weeks back, although I won’t judge if you’ve forgotten.” Gendry said as he placed around the figurines on the map accordingly, taking the wooden winged griffin and placing at the front of the hill. Gendry glanced up to catch a reaction, to which he noticed the stiff and prideful scowl on the bearded gingers face, exactly have he’d hoped to see. 

Gendry stood alone after they’d all left the tent, and he stood alone a day later at approximately noon when a deep rumble of a horn sounded. and deep green capes ran from the horizon in a horde of cries and yells, with the deafening sound of his own people screaming their last prayers and war cries of their houses. He was surprisingly calm, and with his mace like war-hammer in his hand, his mind could only seem to focus on anything but what was in front of him, and of Arya who he hadn’t seen for hours now. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I'm back again, life threw some lemons at me which prevented me from writing, but I'm back now and I'll try to be bit quicker with the next one as things cool down in my life I swear. I hope you haven't forgotten about me in the two weeks I was gone! 
> 
> So this chapter has a bit of everything, and is in my opinon a bit of a mess. Which might have something to do with that fact that this is written over such a long span of time and in small portions. I usually write the chapters in one or two sittings so things might have changed as I got back to it over time. I still got out what I wanted though which was an "angry" Arya and a destressed Gendry, I don't know which of them are at fault here, I like to say both in a strange way, but what do you think? 
> 
> I know I promised a battle this chapter, but we're pushing that to next weeks issue I think, since this just suddenly got very long and I wanted it out of my face to maybe help me get rid of these last two weeks and refresh. 
> 
> Either Way please tell me your thoughts about this chapter, I love reading your comments and considerations about my chapters, its a great insperation booster! Thank you for reading, until next time!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloodsheld and Belligerence 
> 
> (Warning: Graphic scenes with undertone of assault)

Blood curdling screams, roars and cries all coated the air on a warm and sunny day. It was one of those days where you would normally seek to the cool river to bathe and play in, and that time a day where the children’s laughter should sound in the distance as their mothers pulled out another fresh trays of bread out of the oven and called to lunch. It was that time in the season where you would expect to be able watch the birds build their nest in the oak tree, and the flowers starting to spread open their heads, and let their petals catch the warm rays of sunlight as they let their sweet aroma filter in with the breeze.

It wasn’t a day where you’d imagine these flowers to be trampled and crushed underneath heavy steps of clashing iron and steel, and get soaked and discolored by the deep pigmentation of crimson blood. One crash after another the green grass slowly deteriorated, as horses and heels of men dug further into the ground, in an desperate attempt to stay standing for long enough time to see another pale and maniacal enemy in the eyes. 

With each hit another man fell, and with each hit another bone broke and another muscle got pulled somewhere in the masses. Snaps and cracks sounded everywhere around one, and pierced the ears as much as the screeching sound of metals gliding together and chain mails rattling beneath the heavy armor plates covering shoulders, arms and chests. 

As time went on, it got harder and harder to keep your balance as the risk of falling over corpses got larger, but at the same time it got harder to remain considerate to the fallen men, who laid either drawing last breath or were already dead. Even the ones laying choking on their own blood were difficult to distinguish from the others as they only seemed to last seconds before it didn’t matter anymore anyways.

 Horses wailed as they were forced into the crowd, their skin cut and throats slit to get to their riders, as soon as the animal hit the ground it became still, but not necessarily dead, since it’s deep huffs and cries could still be heard calling out for any help it could get in the midst of chaos. No one would ever tend to it though, and when the fight was finally over the only attention it could hope to get was a spear through the neck to ends it’s traumatic noise, and be left to rot in the mud as the rest of the corpses of men would be dragged away to be burned or buried. 

Gendry didn’t know when exactly he’d ended up the middle of the fight himself, he doesn’t remember going into the field, but neither does he remember being far from it when the horn sounded on the opposite end of the lands. He recalls Davos’s scream when his own men started to run forward, but he also remembers not following him into battle like the thousands of other men that passed by him. Gendry was sure it didn’t matter, so he didn’t spend a second of his attention trying to figure it out. 

He also didn’t spend a second to look at the man whose face, neck or shoulder he’d crushed when he hit them with his hammer. He didn’t take a moment to second guess it either, as he remained in a trance of fear and survival, remaining wary at all times, swinging at very man approaching him, his arms growing more and more numb by the minute. He couldn’t afford to take a break, as he was sure that if he did he was dead. Blood covered his hands and leathers, and even more likely his face which was drenched in sweat and dirt from just a few moments ago where he’d been forced into the ground by what he could only assume to be his enemy. Either way that man was now dead, and so was the next man, and the man after him.

It was the fewest of people that got up after Gendry had hit them, be it either to body or head, they fell and never seemed to get up completely after that. The diamond shaped end of his hammer punctuated their skulls and, where as the rounded end reshaped their thinly made helmets and chestplate’s, making it difficult to breathe or get the piece off again if he hit it right. That wasn’t to say that he’d been untouchable throughout the clash, because Gendry could feel the sticky blood soak his once white tunic hidden underneath his layers of thick leather and pieces of armor. His shoulder started to sting at one point, but he doesn’t remember the man who’d struck it, nor knew how deep or bad the wound really was. 

There was sure to be many like it other places, but so long as he hadn’t died Gendry could care less where they were and how much they hurt. He was a constant target for the enemy, and being in the midst of it all made it all the harder for Gendry to know how the fight was going, the stag on his shoulder being a dead giveaway of who he was, even if it was dirty and covered in splashes of dried blood. That was only one of many giveaways of his role in the battle, and while he could do anything but take it off he’d begged in his head for hours on end that Arya had removed hers. 

He hadn’t been able to find her when the time came to ready the men, and to say that he as worried was an understatement, not having her in his peripheral vision at that very moment sent a terrorising feeling through his gut. 

He could only hope that she would’ve heard the horn and ran for her life, but perhaps he should know her better than to think she would run away from danger. He knew she still carried the rapier he’d made her months ago, and he could only wish that out of all days she hadn’t left it somewhere _that_ day. He had to trust that she was capable enough to survive, and while he’d told himself numerous times not to doubt her ability to do so, he couldn’t help but feel anxious about it either.

Gendry caught the sound of a man screaming at the top of his lungs behind him, and being barely able to turn around in time, Gendry let the weight of his hammer stumble him to the side and follow the previous green caped soldier into the mud. The soldier, who could hardly carry the sword in hands, barely missed Gendry and tripped over his comrades now limp body. Covered in mud and out of breath Gendry heaved in a painful breath as he shoved the body off his chest and gazed to look his next foe in the eyes. 

The green caped soldier stared back at Gendry through the front of his helmet, they were large, round and of a clear pale blue like Gendry’s own. Gendry realised then that he was young, no older than seventeen, perhaps nineteen at best, his long sand-blond hair peeked out from underneath his polished plate helmet and fluttered as a wind ran over the field, carrying that of a thick smell of blood and rot. Gendry couldn’t help but stare at the boy, for must’ve seemed like forever to him, because it had been the first time Gendry had actually seen the eyes of his enemy, and gazed into the honest emotions that they carried with them. 

This boy was scared, and shivered like a cold mouse despite the warm sun heating up his armor, and possibly making every drop of sweat that ran from his neck and down his clothes boil. Gendry could tell that the boy was weak, both from the tension that ran up his body and caused his knees to shake and hands to twitch, but also from the amount of excess leather from straps under his arms that stuck out... and the fact that he could barely muster to hold his sword upright. _He must be exhausted_ , Gendry thought to himself with a hint of pity and compassion for the boy, he could relate to the boy in that regard, as he sat in the mud he also didn’t feel like having to stand up again suddenly.  

Standing up meant killing the boy, he would take the life of a brave young lad who had nothing but his own life to carry on his shoulders, and now he would have to strip him off it and have him lay next to all the other boys and men who’d been shoved into another man's fight, and later be forgotten forever. The boy probably didn’t ask to fight, and even if he did he sure as hell wasn’t ready for one yet.

Gendry couldn’t help but wonder why he’d come all the way to find him, although now that he looked the at the boy it was clear to see that he’d likely expected things to end in a different manner, and that he possibly had the same ambition as everybody else that had sought to fight Gendry. 

Wanting the honor that would come from killing a lord on a battlefield, wanting to make something of himself for having done it too, be knighted too maybe. They all shared the same ambitions. Perhaps this boy just wanted it to end though, end the massacre, end the fighting and struggling and go home to where he’s safe like Gendry wanted.

Perhaps he sought only to kill Gendry because it would mean that he could finally relax his weak arms and get something to eat. Whichever one it was he was brave, braver than any boy Gendry had ever met, but it was a compliment Gendry couldn’t give him. Because while he could understand his reasoning and sympathized with the boy, he was also all too selfish himself and would do the boy no favors in letting the boy kill him to get what he wanted. 

Gendry was raised on a strict mentality, which made him unable to empathize with others when faced with a possible death. In his life it was a constant choice of kill or be killed, and while he hadn’t lived in the slums for years now, it was a trait he’d been unable to shake, and he wasn’t about to do it now for the sake of a simple boy. 

He rose himself from the ground, and watched as the boy grew intensely more stiff, and started to shift his sword in his hands. Gendry was barely standing upright when he heard a cry erupt from the boy again and watched him with a focused stare as he rose his blade. Perhaps Gendry’s expectations for sword fighting had to been raised since he’d started to watch Arya on the balcony, because he found the boy to be slow and shaky as he saw to strike Gendry. 

His hand tightened around his hammer once again as he readied himself for what he would have to do once more, holding one hand at the leather bound handle and another at the base of the head, and catching the edge of the sword on the middle of the handle of his weapon.

 Gendry kicked the boy in the stomach and watched him fall back and drop his weapon. May it be the rush of having fought a countless of others prior to this, or it be the anger that rose in his gut at the thought of what the boy had been doomed to undergo, Gendry placed both of his hands at the end of the handle and swung the hammer downs wards to collide with the boy’s scrawny body. 

The boy may have cried, but Gendry didn’t hear due to the countless of other cries surrounding him, a sound he no longer saw different from that of the wind through trees. He saw the boy crumble into other bodies where he laid, skirmishing and hugging his shoulder where Gendry had hit him, his shoulder piece dented and blood oozing from beneath it.

He didn’t have time to stay concerned and apologize to the boy though, before he heard a horn yet again and whipped his head around to look towards the trees. His heart was trembling his chest as he watched black and green capes run out from the edge of the forest like a herd of frightened deer, and wasn’t able to tell who was chasing who. He searched for Rolland’s horse and banner, but barely had the time to once he realised where they were running towards. 

The fresh cavalries where going to crash with the front line and plough through the men and weave into the fight from the side, and they were heading right towards Gendry with a pace greater than Gendry could seek to run from. Horses started to wail and pass him as he started to head for higher ground once more, arrows fell around him and men’s bleed out beneath him as he continued to fight his way away from the chaos. It seemed almost endless in Gendry’s mind and he felt as if he was going to go insane if it continued for much longer, only to be knocked back down once more with a force enough to push the air out of his lungs. 

\-- 

It had been quiet only a moment ago, the breeze was still, and the leaves above Arya’s head had been swaying lightly and letting the warm sunshine filter through them only a second ago. She’d sought for a place to be alone while the camp was being set up, although Arya had sensed that something was off that morning, it wasn’t the usual tents was being set up and every soldier she’d seen that day seemed on edge and all too quiet... compared to the endless noise they’d made the night before. Having been unable to sleep for the seventh night that week Arya left Gendry to sleep and went to walk the forest, hoping it would clear her mind a bit. 

She hadn’t had the greatest luck despite her continuous attempts at doing so. Her mind kept circling back to the giefing thoughts of her now lost family, she felt a sense of loss and anger whenever she was reminded of them. Perhaps her outrage had been a way of dealing with the pain that ate at her whenever things got too quiet at night, she was frustrated with Robb and her mother for having suffered from their choices, while at the same time mourning the manner of which they had been killed by. Murdered like her father, all in the name of betrayal and jealousy anger by the Frey’s. 

Arya cursed his name like all others, and promised to see his corpse on a spike like he’d done her brother after she’d slit his throat like that of which he’d done to her mother. 

The amount of times she’d felt her mind spiral into dark thoughts might have been concerning to most people, but she didn’t care, she would gladly parade every corpse of the people who’d hurt her with pride if it meant soothing the hatred in her. It felt like it would never go away and it was suffocating at times. Not even the comfort of Gendry’s presence was able to calm her down, in fact it only seemed to make it all the worse at times when she recalled everything she’d been at fault for because of this anger. 

She felt bad for having accused him in the manner that she had a week ago, so much that she found it difficult to speak to him normally again afterwards, yet still allowed herself to cling to him when she was sure that he was asleep. It was shameful and embarrassing but the half in her that still kept some of her sanity disagreed and allowed herself to cry in those moments and give in to the pain she hid from in during the day. She was only glad that he never woke from it due to his immense exhaustion.  

The hate and endless deception made her lose all trust she had for anybody around her, she might’ve felt bad for judging Gendry, but even though she’d been wrong, she couldn’t help but still doubt some aspect of everything he’d told her despite knowing deep down that it was the truth. It was a paranoia that she refused to continue to inflict upon him, because despite her not wanting to be doubtful, she also knew that it was inevitable not to while she still remained in this dark insanity, so she kept her distance from him and everyone else because of it. 

Arya doesn’t remember the time a day she first caught the sound of men in the distance, but she remembers the concern it struck in her gut when she hid uphill and saw the green capes flutter quietly through the thick forest. It occurred to Arya rather quickly what was going on, but when she heard the sound of a deep horn blow against the trees, causing the birds to scatter from their nest, she knew it was too late to go back. Arya continued to follow the force like a shadow through at the edge of the forest, remaining on top of the steep hill and watching them closely so make sure no one saw her. Most people rode on horseback, their green capes covering the back end of the horse like a blanket as they rode along in between the spring green birch and oak trees, their robes and saddles almost working as a camouflage. 

Arya was dark in contrast to them, wearing almost all black against the white and brown tree trunks. She slid from one tree to another, and from a brush to a bolder, constantly looking over her shoulder and listening after footsteps while moving along. She noticed their longbows over their shoulder, making their plan obvious to Arya, but it also made her that bit more frightful as screams reached her ears from far away. The whole army must be on the move because Arya could feel the ground rumble from where she stood, and hear the trembling noise of horses whines and cries in the distance. 

Arya’s thoughts darkened yet again at the thought of Gendry being part of it, and she suddenly felt a rush of panic as her legs wanted to take her down hill and into the field to find him to make sure that he wasn’t. She of course resisted the urge to do so, and pushed the thoughts away from her, refusing to think that he would be there, with the looming knowledge of him in the back of her mind telling her that he obviously would in the front lines if he could. 

After a while the force of men stopped, and leaped down from their horses and throwing their bows of the ground, as well as lining up their men and arrows. The orders from the commander of the force suddenly lost its subtlety as he yelled for the men to ready themselves. Arya drew a sharp inhale as she ran through a scenario in her head, which was cut off by an arrow flying into the dead trunk she was hiding behind next to her head. 

She flinched and drew her blade from her scabbard with one clean movement, her eyes scanning behind her where the arrow had come from. She saw nothing at first, but then caught eyes with a black caped figure in the midst of the forest, she saw him draw his bow back again at the orders of another man on horseback, and behind him came what she believed to be at least fifty more armored men. 

Arya glanced behind her quickly to check if she’d been caught, and when nothing had changed she looked back at the new enemy. That was at least until the hand of the man dropped and the archers bow fell to his side, perplexed Arya looked down at the arrow next to her, and noticed it’s black feathers. _Stormlanders_ , she thought to herself and looked up at the men once more to see the man on horseback wave her over with a short gesture. 

She was hesitant in doing so, strangely not wanting to move with the enemy right behind her, but she eventually had to give in and she walked over calmly and quietly. The man glared at her as she approached, and she mirrored the scowl on his face before he jumped off his horse and bowed his head. Arya expected him to say something, but instead he offered her the reins to his horse and gestured further into the forest.

Arya refused his horse, but walked past him and his men, following the direction he’d set for her. She was wary, despite recognizing the yellow birds on their lack capes and swords. It didn’t take them long to reach a greater force of soldier with the same coat and similar armor, all carrying swords and shields, the fewest on horseback compared to the green caped soldiers just down hill. Arya noticed many of the soldiers as they either stared at her, or the sky above them, a few the ground. Some mumbled silent words of prayer while others seemed incapable of creating a thought in their pale and illy-looking state. Arya said nothing, and wasn’t spoken to either, although she saw the nervous stares they all gave her when they noticed her look, some pointed it out to their fellow next to them, others remained unbothered. 

A large a broad shouldered man came galloping up through the lined up forces, his large brown stallion complimenting it’s riders majestic attitude and fierce appearance. Arya recognised this man, although she’d never asked for a name and had never spoke a word to him either. She’d spotted him discuss several matters with Gendry over the course of her stay, and noticed that he was one of the few people around that she could tell Gendry liked. Seeing him up close Arya realised now just how large and threatening he really was, his harsh square jaw and narrow eyes looming above her, and judging her as if he was more than just a soldier to her. 

He eyed her up and down with a judgemental gaze, before his frown turned soft and he dismounted his steed. Compared to most of the soldiers, he wore no cape, only highly polished armor and a large sword resting at his hip. Unlike many this man also seemed experienced in the act of warfare, due to him having more than one scar on his face, but also due to his large sense of confidence and easy nerves as he turned to face her with a tall chin and a proud look in his eyes. 

He bowed his head to her in the same manner that the other soldier had done to her, a hand on his chest as if she was more than just a silly lady. She didn’t like his courtesies, so she kept her expression dull and uninterested before he looked up at her and his gaze changed from that of pride to concern. 

“My lady I had no expectations of seeing you out here…” He greeted, to which Arya nearly rolled her eyes and placed her blade into its scabbard once more. 

“The feeling is mutual I guess, I didn’t expect to see anyone out here either if I'm honest.” 

The lean soldier laughed, “I beg your pardon but I do hope you’re joking my lady, how could you off all people be unaware of today events?” 

Arya bit down to her cheek, perhaps it was unexpected of her not to know about the plans of the fight, and while the occurrence of it didn’t surprise her much, it was the lack of her knowledge about the plans for it that was off putting. Admittedly she didn’t know how to play it off either, she could pretend to know of Gendry’s plans but that would lead to him most likely asking why she was then in the forest to begin with if she knew. 

“Long story…” she muttered under her breath as it occurred to her that it might partly be her own fault for not having spoken to Gendry over the past week, while the other part being on Gendry’s fault for being too considerate of her need to distance herself. 

“No matter my lady’s reasons I’m relieved to have found you before it was too late, this is of no degree a suitable place for you to stay at, soon we’ll storm their flanks and aide our fellow soldiers on the battlefield and bring honor to our lands, and on no degree should my lady be a part of such bloody affairs.” the Soldier chuckled proudly as he took a short glance to his men who didn’t seem to share the same interest and view on the matter.  

Arya couldn’t tell which part to be hooked up on, the manner of which he told her that she was too much of a lady to be a part of a fight, or the part where he considered her frail and weak-minded because of it. Whichever one it was she was already too exhausted to correct him, instead she bit her tongue and cleared her throat. 

“Sorry ser…?”

“Rolland, my lady, Rolland Storm of house Caron.” 

He was quick to intercept, a hand placed on his chest where his sigil was pinned to his leather straps, just like any other soldier from Nightsong. Arya hadn’t expected him to a bastard though, and even more unexpectedly holding such a high position regardless of it, although it wouldn’t be the first time she’d met a bastard who’d been properly acknowledged by his father. Her brother Jon always had a secure place in their father heart, and had he not left them like he did she was almost certain that he would’ve aided Robb the same way Rolland did his brother now… Arya had wondered if would’ve made a difference if Jon was there with Robb, but she supposed such; what-if’s didn’t matter anymore. 

Who wasn’t to say that Jon hadn’t already long passed up by the wall, and would never know about everything that's been happening.

“Ser Rolland thank you for your consideration, but my safety should not be the concern right now. The Reachmen have already arrived at the edge of the forest and is making their final preparations, may I ask what exactly we are waiting for?” Arya asked with an undertone of irritation as she started to feel restless by the thought of them being late by even as much as a second. 

Rolland glanced to the previous man who’d offered Arya his horse, and noticed his firm nod to which Rolland sighed and nodded back before turning his attention back to Arya.

“We are waiting for a sign my lady.” Rolland clarified, to which Arya’s felt her brow twitch. 

“A sign... and what sign might that be?” 

“A scout to be precise, one with a clear view of when all of the enemy’s forces are in full combat, as per lord Baratheons orders.” Rolland explained as he gestured a hand to one of his soldiers, giving quiet orders along the way as they spoke. Arya gritted her teeth in annoyance, glaring back over her shoulder, as if anticipating the green caped soldiers to run up the ledge any minute now. 

“And when will that be-?” She asked looking back at the tall and well built man who give her a hesitant gaze from the corner of his eye in return, “- I told you they are already in position to storm the field, if they act before we do the rest of the army will be overrun in seconds and we will have lost this fight…” She was cross with the lack of sense going around, specifically with this knight of Nightsong, his confidence might have been a favorable trait on a battlefield, but he seemed to lack the ideal level of intelligence one would need to have to carry out a proper flank mission. It almost made Arya wonder what reason Gendry could’ve had to have picked him for the job, but she may also have been unaware of his choices.

Rolland seemed to have caught offense with her tone, because for the first time he dropped the somewhat confident smirk he’d put on, and changed it into that of a thin line.

“My lady I understand the concern you may have with the execution of this, with matters such as lord Baratheons life on the line... but do trust that I have everything in order and that my lord’s plans will be successful.” Rolland reassured, with a restraint on his voice as he looked away from Arya again when her scowl deepened. 

Arya had by now lost all faith for any of the Stormlords, when it came to matters such as trusting them with Gendry’s life. What hadn’t this Rolland Storm thought of him in the beginning as well, for Arya there was no sign of him being any different from Ronnet Connington so far: _Think I'm the only one who had their hopes up back then?_ She didn’t, and who was to say this Ser Rolland hadn’t either. She didn’t trust Rolland the same way Gendry may have done, and even if he wasn’t a threat, she had learned long ago not to put her own worries into other peoples hands. 

“Believe me...It's not his plans I'm doubting.” She said under a low breath as she once more caught sound of the screams in the distance, and turned on her heel leaving a puzzled Rolland Storm behind to watch her head over to the quiet soldier. She didn’t speak a word as she ripped the reins out of the soldiers hands, assuming that his offer was still in place, and mounted his sand brown horse. 

Adjusting her seat Rolland must’ve realised what was going on, and came up to her with great pace and worry oozing out of him.

“My lady where are you going it’s too dangerous to move around-” 

Not wishing to hear his prattel of empty regard, Arya interrupted him in an indifferent manner. 

“Your lord isn’t nonsensical ser Rolland, he wouldn’t have planned for this much of a delay, neither would he want you to sit around because of it. I tell you that the enemy is going to strike, yet you insist on waiting because of some formal regulation, hence I’ll have to go to make sure your needs… and mine... are met.” 

Rolland seemed to object with her, as his hands went to grab the throat-lash to hold the horse back. “My lady it’s off no disrespect that I tell you that I can’t allow you to go, by orders from my lord commander I am obligated to keep you safe in his stead” 

Arya felt a sneer in her throat as she listened to his noble shit version of a persuasion. 

“And it’s of no disrespect that I tell you that I am not obligated to stay here, much like you are not obligated to follow an order that I know lord Baratheon hasn’t given you. Now excuse me, seems I’ll have to finish someone else's job.” She snapped at Rolland who’s hand was force off the reins when Arya dug her heels into the sides of the horse, and startled most of the soldiers as she sprinted past them in a great rush. 

Following the trail Rolland’s force had made through the forest Arya continuously kicked the side of the horse, as if expecting it to somehow surpass the speed at which it was already sprinting in. For Arya it couldn’t go fast enough, and felt numerous branches whip against her cheeks as she forced her way through. Cursing in her head she expected to see the scout at any given time, but with each second Arya grew more and more unsure of the existence of one. 

Her heart dropped as she reached a clearing on the trail along the hill, and watched as smoke and mud were covering the fields where men laid in piles and horses laid scattered in between bloody corpses. Even from far away Arya’s eyes stung from the harsh smell of iron, sweat and shit, it was worse than any smell Arya had ever been near and she could hardly imagine what it must be like down there. With that thought in mind her eyes scanned the fields, trying to spot any indication of Gendry in the horde of people all trying to draw blood from one another. 

She was quick to realise that it was a lost cause as she could hardly make out their faces, and it got harder and harder to distinguish the enemy. Every soldier seemed to be covered in mud or blood, hiding any obvious indication of who they might be fighting for to the naked eye, but Arya was certain that there for the soldiers were no doubt in their minds who they were supposed to fight. 

One thing Arya did notice was the fact that the far side was more crowded than the near side, which could only mean one thing… they were losing. With a calm exterior to contrast the fear the sight struck in her, she looked further over the horizon where she saw horses looming on the opposite end. The green and red banners that fluttered around them made their fealty clear, these was Randyll Tarly’s men, and by the looks of it he didn’t seem to have anything else hidden around them. Wth the forest on the east side, and the open field continuing on for miles longer west, it was unlikely for him to have tried to hide more than one force in the forest. 

A sudden snap from behind Arya caught her attention, as her horse grew uneasy and started nervously tap it’s hooves into the hard ground. Arya had been around horses long enough to know when they sensed a threat, but this time even she felt a ominous presence around her and started to scan the area.  

She could run, being on the back of a horse most likely gave her the advantage in terms of an escape, but at the same time she had to remind herself of the fact that she was looking for someone herself. Dismounting the horse Arya drew her blade and kept the horse close, as she continued to listen for any further indication of life near by. She headed towards where the snap had seemingly come from, before a rustle of leaves sounded next to her and a low whisper of a curse could be heard under a frustrated breath. 

“Fuck.” 

It was then Arya noticed him, a hooded figure hiding behind a the trunk of a thick dark oak tree, green eyes meeting with hers and then pulled away. Arya’s heart picked up in pace as she in an instance instinctively knew that this man wasn’t who she believed him to be, because within a sly snicker of a smile, the hooded man drew out a small handheld crossbow from his long coat and pulled the trigger. 

Arya stumbled back as she within that of a sharp inhale dodged the arrow shot her way, and watched as it pierced into the horses neck instead, creating a blood curdling whine to escape the creature as it dropped down into the forest floors and wailed in pain. Startled Arya let the reins fall from her hand as dark red blood started ooze out from around the arrow and soaked the once blond coat of the mare. The sound of a click caught Arya’s ears once more, and she managed to look back just in time to see the hooded man load the crossbow again.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to reach him in time, as well as understanding that her return to the force was more important Arya ran. She felt the whiff of the Arrow next to her ear as it passed her, piercing into a trunk in front of her, and like a startled deer Arya took a sharp left in another direction in response to it. Pushing past branches and trees Arya sprinted across the forest floors, not needing to look back to know that the hooded figure was right behind her, as his steps heavy and his breathing mimicking that of a tired bull.   

Arrows continued to whiff past her with only moments of pause in between, and without knowing just how close he really was Arya made the attempt to jump a bolder, but within the time she’d even as much as placed her hands on it felt a bony hand wrapping around her ankle and yanked her back. Her heart throbbed in her throat as she landed back on the ground, with barely enough time to look the man in the eyes before he drew a dagger from his belt and jumped at her. Arya could tell she wouldn’t have time to roll away, so she drew her knee to her chest and used it as a force between them to push him off her, but he was larger than her and so she could only bring him off balance which gave her enough time to crawl away. 

Her hands trembled, and her breath was having difficulties escaping her as fear started to set in. She wasn’t able to stand up in time before the same hand grabbed a lump of her hair and forced her upwards on her knees, placing the cold edge of his dagger against her throbbing throat. The hooded man let out a wheezing chuckle as he tightened his hold in her hair, making her skull sting. 

“You’re a weaselly little bitch aren’t you? Here I thought my job was done already, killing that quivery worm earlier _..._ glad I stuck around eh, I didn’t expect to see someone like you out here to take his place… you’re different-” 

The man snickered as he examined Arya’s face, and pressed the blade firmer against her skin watched as Arya bit her tongue due to the pain that followed it as she felt a warm liquid run down her throat and into her clothes. The man leaned in closer to her, his thick smell of rot and sweat heavy on the nose as his breath fanned over her skin, so foul Arya felt her stomach flip in disgust and a sour taste grew thick in her throat in response to it. 

“-you’re much prettier.”

He finished with a throaty laughter, Arya didn’t need to spend much time to know what he was referring to, both in regard to the obvious innuendo about her, but also about this quivering worm he spoke off. She grew confident as she figured that her hunch about the scouts delay had been reasonable, but even more so she grew cross at the idea that if she hadn’t left the hidden army they would’ve continued to do nothing because of ser Rollands insensibility. 

Arya forced her eyes open and stared up into the narrow and baggy eyes of her capture, he might not be as old as his saggy features might suggest, a pointy nose and loose cheeks and clear black pores ageing him like moldy bread. His hood had fallen off him, revealing a bald-spotted set of long black hair, dry scraps of blood on his scalp seemed to be a permanent part of his features as signs from earlier victims struggles. It was very likely that all the other blood on his cloak and leathers wasn’t his own, because his posture and force indicated no signs of exhaustion or soreness, meaning the previous scout, whoever he’d been, hadn’t put up much of a fight. 

He watched her with hungry eyes, which was possibly the only reason why he hadn’t slit her throat yet, which Arya believed to be both lucky and a catastrophe for her, but she said nothing to try and persuade him to not do whatever he seemed to want. Silently she grasp to her sides instead as she cursed in her head, she’d lost her rapier in the fall, leaving her unarmed to fight against the man so long as his knife was at her throat. 

“You dress nicer than the other as well, the silver on your shoulder… it’s worth something… meaning, _you’re_ worth something.” 

He snickered at her as he stared down her body, his eyes shining at the sight of the pin holding up her own cloak together. The pin had saved her before, and so far she hadn’t regretted keeping it on since she got it. While it may be a beacon of her connection to house Baratheon, which in hindsight may not be advantageous in the hours of battle, she found that she would under no circumstances rather have her loyalty be misplaced or confused regardless of the consequences that could follow if she were ever caught. 

She didn’t carry it in pride for the Baratheon name, she didn’t carry it like she carried the Stark name, with honor and love for her kin. She carried this sigil because of the pride she felt for Gendry, and him alone, knowing that if she didn’t no one else would, and neither did she want them to anymore.

 While Arya may never have been a boaster of neither her position as a Stark daughter and lady, or showed off the possible riches she could have if she channeled that fact. She found herself wanting to make it clear as the sky above to everyone around her, that she was the one to stand next to lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End and share his name and no one else, and she’d been damned if anyone tried to challenge that fact. 

This man challenged that, the same way Sandor Clegane had challenged it. They saw her as a price, a liability to which they could use to threaten Gendry to benefit themselves, and she’d let it happen once, but knowing the outcome and utter embarrassment it had been for her, and likely Gendry himself, she’d long promised for it to ever happen again. She wouldn’t let them toy with him, just as much as she refused to become a tool for them to do so… She’d die before she let any of that happen. 

But dying wasn’t an option this time around, because dying would be exactly what they’d want her to do, dying meant she’d be taken to Randyll Tarly and later be presented on a spike to force a surrender, dying meant hurting him and it meant leaving him too… it meant failing him. 

The spy wetted his lips as he shifted his dagger in his hands, so that the point was now pressing against the bottom of her chin. 

“I bet the price is higher if you’re alive too... your hair is soft, and your skin is clean...you’re one of them highborns aren’t you?-” 

He didn’t want for a response, because he knew it to be true already, which made his smile wider. 

“-The bald huntsman is sure to want you then… he’s highborn too, and highborns should deal with highborns… but then again, they never warn us about how pretty you are, they want you ladies for themselves, but I know a trick to fix that problem, want to hear it?...-” He begun to ramble on as he continued to observe her with keen eyes, keen and disgusting green eyes. He leaned in closer to whisper into her ear, the foul smell of his breath growing stronger around Arya. 

“-... They don’t like experienced women…-” 

His statement made himself laugh as Arya pulled a disgusted look on her face, not because of the factuality of his statement, but the hidden meaning it carried with it. His dunkey-like laughter erupted around her as he continued to yank in her hair, and she used his own distraction to yank the pin out of her cloak, and felt the fabric fall from her shoulders, making them cold, hiding it in her closed hand, and she sat still and continued to wait. 

“-They are so entitled their minds explode if they sleep with non-virgins, so you know what they do?... They throw you out to us lowborns... but we never get to have any of the fun, so the trick is… we just have to get to you first.” He explained with an underlining madness behind his excitement. 

In a laughter he suddenly let go of Arya’s hair and removed the dagger from her throat, only to wrap it around her throat and force her down into ground and start squeezing. It had caught Arya of guard, so much had she’d managed to flex her hand for long enough to drop the pin in a frail of panic. Her vision went blurry as she choked on spit and she’d hit her head on something hard and sharp on the ground. Her left hand went to try and force his hold off her, while her right searched the ground blindly for the pin. 

In a weak attempt to kick him off, he straddled either side of her stomach with a hysterical grin on his face as he watched Arya frail, which to him might have looked like panic.

“You’re quivery too I see… I don’t like quivery people...so let’s fix that.”

He rose to his knees and put his weight on the hold he had on her throat, making Arya lose both sense and strength in her body rapidly. Refusing to lose consciousness Arya had held her breath and continued to flimsily look for the pin, but the man grew irritated with her attempts, so he took his other hand and struck her across the jaw. 

Once, then twice more. 

Arya felt her whole head ring, and her cheek and throat burned as black spots started to appear in her vision as she look up into the crow off the still quiet and green trees. _Don’t_ _faint. Don’t faint_ she repeated in her mind desperately, but she knew that she couldn’t hold on for long, her lungs already starting to cry out in pain and her hearing started to fail her as all sound around her became thick and indistinguishable. Once more she cursed her weak figure as she was unable to do just about anything to the amount to the weight that was put above her. 

For one she didn’t want to faint because of her pride, knowing that if she did she’d lost this fight, but for another because she knew what he would do to her the second she went limp, and where she would end up when she woke again… if she did at all. She had to kill him, but the pin was lost and the blade was out of her reach, she tried with all of her might to force him off her and kicked him several times, but each time she did she felt him grow more and more excited above her. 

Clawing at the ground Arya’s eyes fell once, then twice, until the blinks lasted seconds, and soon she couldn’t keep them open at all. The spit turned thick and sour in her mouth and she tasted blood on her tongue as she bit her cheek to stay awake. Then she touched it, something smooth and cold, something that wasn’t a leaf or a stick as she took another hit to the side of her head.

“GO. TO. SLEEP!” 

She heard him yell behind gritted teeth, and Arya was close to do so, but she desperately tried to make her arm stretch just a far bit more, as her fingers continued to graze the object she’d been so hopelessly searching for. She needed air, and her left hand could no longer use anymore force like it had done in attempts to try and remove his hold her her throat. Her nails clawed at his bony finger one last time, and she managed lift two fingers from her throat which was enough for one short whiff of air to clear her mind. 

Although it wasn’t much, it was enough for Arya to open her eyes and meet  the man’s frustrated glare with cold blooded fury. She took a chance in that moment, and she removed her left hand from his wrist and reached up to grab around his own throat and dug her nails firmly and deeply into the side it making his yelp out in pain as Arya felt her nails get soaked in warm liquid. 

With the last bit of her strength, Arya forced his head the left side of her, to which her right hand finally got enough reach as his weight shifted above her to wrap tightly around what she knew to be the pin, and in once forceful motion she bit her lip and forced the antlers of the sigil into the shoulder of the man. He lost his balance and had to use the hand that before had had a hawk like grasp around Arya’s throat to catch himself, while the had he’d used to strike her, went to wrap around his shoulder where the pin and punctuated the leathers and skin underneath it. 

In anger and determination Arya lifted her right leg and rose her right side enough for her knee to strike the side of his head and make him tumble into the ground. He yelled out in pain as Arya continued to dig her nails further and further into his throat. She’d switched their position, giving her the upper hand as she continued to force the pin into his shoulder and chest, making blood soak his leathers and later her hands. 

He laughed in between wails of pain, it made her blood run hot and stomach ice cold. He dared to laugh when she needed him to cry for what he’d done to her, what he’d tried to do, and what he’d threatened to do. So she continued to force the pin into his chest, until her ears could no longer handle the sound of his laughter, and her eyes got coated red with murder. She squeezed the stag in her hand so tightly that she felt even her own palm bleed, but was numb to the pain, as she in short burst of breaths did as he’d done to her and put all off her weight onto his throat and screamed behind a closed and sore throat as she begun to hammer the pin to his forehead. 

Blood was quick to burst from the mans face, and he was silent in an instant as well, but Arya continued in her blind rage and forced the pin numerous times into his deformed skull. Cursing and screaming in pain in her head as she did so.

She wouldn’t be taken from away from him. She wouldn’t be used to toy with him. She wouldn’t be used to hurt him. She wouldn’t be touched by anyone else than him. She wouldn’t be handed to anyone other than him. She wouldn’t be a liability to him, and she wouldn’t be the reason for his defeat and death, and she’d be damned if anyone, _anyone_ tried to make so, and she was sure to have this man understand that fact.

Whiffs of blood splashed up on her face, but the warm fluid was nothing to her, and the smell was like that of fresh air in her lungs as all of her build up anger came full force out of her body in short burst of screams. It grew into a purposeless anger, that at one point had nothing to do with the man she was brutally murdering as she started to see his face change in front of her. 

She saw past bullies from Winterfell, she saw the guard from Storm’s End, She saw King Robert, She saw Prince Joffrey, Queen Cersei, Little Finger, Ronnet Connington, Rolland Storm, Frey children and the wrinkly old and now blood covered face of Walder Frey. 

It was an endless circle that with each bow changed the victims face and made her more and more angry, until Arya could no longer make out the hooded mans original face. She slit his throat with the pin, gutted his eyes with the pin, sliced open his cheeks and chest with the pin until Arya’s whole body was covered in a deep cardinal red, and she no longer had the strength to remember what or why she was even killing the man for. 

She spilled no tears, but her whole body was trembling and numb by the end of it… with a blank mind she stared on to the corpse she was sitting on, and while relief was washing over her, but she was far from satisfied. He may have looked different, but the faces of who she’d seen on him stilled lived and breathed in safety.  

Arya opened her trembling and, and looked at the dirty and blood red Baratheon sigil in her hand. There wasn’t a trace of silver left of on it, and a piece of the horn had broken off the top, still Arya clutched in her hand and brought to her mouth and silently sighed into it, breathing in the smell of iron and decay from the ground as she thanked the gods she hadn’t lost it. 

Her legs trembled as she rose from the ground and ignored the gory corpse to find and pick up her rapier and put in her scabbard. Slowly Arya continued on her way, as the sounds of fighting still lingered in the air around her, forcing her to pick up her pace and run staggidly back towards the force that was waiting for her. 

She was met with Davos when she returned, who yelled out her name when he saw her. He was dirty and covered in splashes of dried blood like everybody else around her, but he was alive, which was more than enough for Arya. Her knees broke underneath her, as the dizziness from the hits she’d taken finally got to her and she fell to the ground, held up Davos and his men. 

“My lady!” She heard him call several times, but she ignored his calls and instead gathered her balance enough to push herself out of the soldiers hold and stumbled her way to Rolland Storm who stood silently in the background. 

She couldn’t look him straight in the eye as he did her, her ears ringing and head throbbing painfully in her ears, but she still managed to speak her mind, “Your scout is dead...Send your men… now…” She spoke within broken breaths, and while Rolland took a second to examine her silently he said nothing to her in response, but yelled out a loud and clear order that rung in an echo around the forest. 

“Men! Get ready!.. Today those dogs _die_ beneath our fury!” 

A loud collective roar was heard in reply, and in unison the soldiers rose their swords and started sprinting for the hill that would lead them down to the Reachmen. Arya was knocked over by passing soldiers that knocked into her in their bewilderment, leaving her to fall into the ground once more, too weak to get up as screams and cries all got louder and louder around her, and the sound of steel and iron clashing pierced the air… until it all became nothing.

\--

Gendry couldn’t keep up with his lungs as he was continuously knocked down into mud and corpses, arrows flying all around him in search of a target. He’d been running for the top of the hill for who knows how long by now, all in the pursuit of a higher ground to see the battle from afar. He saw the line break as the soldiers from the forest clashed with the enemy, breaking the building u-line the reachmen was forming around them in hopes to surround them all. Gendry couldn’t verbally explain the relief he’d left when he saw Rolland’s forces come from the forest, cutting down Reachmen and yelling at the top of their lungs. 

Gendry wouldn’t deny that they were a tad bit too late in his opinion, but he may also have been oblivious as to the reason why that had been. There had been no extra hidden forces elsewhere as Gendry had speculated, so the delay was unjustified in that regard, but Gendry wouldn’t ponder about it too much, so long as they’d come he had no reason to question it further… at least not now. 

Too distracted with his observation Gendry didn’t see the reachman cavalry that stormed Gendry’s way from the sidelines. Not until it crashed into him, knocking him chest first into the mud in an attempt to trample him. He felt the air escape him as he rolled onto his side in pain from the hit his side had taken from a hoof, glancing up to see a armored reachman carrying it the Tarly banner stop his horse and make a sharp u-turn. 

The man had no identity, his face covered with a large steel helm, closed at the front with only two slits to give him a sense of vision. He was a burte, quite the opposite of the boy Gendry had been forced to kill moments earlier, his shoulders wider than that of the width of the horse. The knight rose his sword and pointed it at Gendry, charging the horse in his direction once more in a sprint. Wide Eyed and taken aback Gendry rose to his feet quite instantaneously, barely escaping the strike of the sword that came his way when the knight passed Gendry once more. 

Holding on to his hammer for support Gendry observed as the knight turned again, looking as he was jousting, with Gendry playing the fool who was to be chased for the highborns entertainment… If this was the case Gendry expected Randyll Tarly to keep a close watch from across the field, although Gendry would not bring them the sort of entertainment they wanted. Rolling his shoulders, Gendry straightened his back and readied himself for impact, watching the horse as it started to dig into the mud to force itself across the field with a even greater speed than before. 

Within a deep inhale, and a frown Gendry lifted his hammer and rose it over his shoulder, only to swing it in front of him as the horse was within reach. With a great force the hammer hit the horse in it’s chest, sending the creature out of balance and within two steps into the ground in a harrowing whine. The knight was flung off the horse and rolled several feet across the ground, Gendry watching silently at the sidelines, gripping his shoulder as the impact had taken a greater toll on his shoulder than he’d anticipated. 

Breathing like a tired bull Gendry felt his legs weaken and body slowly shutting down from exhaustion. He was reaching his limit he realised, he didn't know when it would be, or how much more he could take, but he was close… that much he was certain off. 

The large knight rose from the ground, in a slow and steady movement, he’d dropped the banner in the fall, the pole now broken and curled up in a puddle the green field turning moss brown. Despite the pain that followed, Gendry pretend to unbothered by the tensity in his shoulder, knowing that if the enemy saw him weakened they were more likely to try and overpower him. 

They collided when the knight jolted towards Gendry, sword and hammer clashing like countless others, and grunts escaping the two as they both used a force to try and overpower each other, making each hit harder and harder to top. Gendry especially struggled to build up strength, since his body got heavier and heavier, every muscle in his arms and legs shaking from the tenisty and numbness. With a hit Gendry managed to get the helm off the knight, a middle aged man showing his face underneath it, Gendry didn’t recognize his face, but he could tell from the old scars and the long beard that this likely wasn’t the first battle he’d been faced with. 

But he was old, and slowed due to the heavy plate armor, meaning he was likely an equal with Gendry on the physical level by now. He may be slow, but he hit hard and precisely whenever he struck at Gendry who stumbled when defending himself from a hit to the side. His muddy hands making the warhammer slip in his grasp, which caused the tip of the knights sword to scrape the right side of his forehead. 

Securing his balance, Gendry felt blood roll from his brow and over his right eye, which he wiped off, but only got continuously worse in doing so. Throughout the fight, his right eye got more and more blurry, until he could no longer see out of it and it refused to open again, blood throbbing in eye, and it started to sting as mud and sweat got into the wound. It ruined Gendry’s sense of depth, making it close to impossible to attack and defend against the continuous hits from the opposing knight. 

At one point Gendry was force into a bundle of corpses, the smell too strong to be ignored but not intolerable for a man who’d been surrounded by the smell for hours. Grabbing an limp arm, Gendry rose a reachmans shield to defend himself from the knight's sword who sliced into the corpses like a mad butcher in an attempt to hit Gendry. 

Grunts and rigid breaths escaped the old knight as Gendry grabbed a Stormlanders sword, and clashed with that of the knights. The sound sharp to the ears and force agonizing to the writs, Gendry took advantage to the focus the man had on the sword force to drop his hammer for long enough to hit him square in the jaw with coarse groan. His hand was cut and bleeding, and arms were weak to the point of breaking, but it had been enough to make the knight stumble backwards and give Gendry time to stand up and pierce the borrowed sword into the side of the man by the straps of his armor. 

The elder knight froze in his spot as the sword stuck to his stomach, blood gushing out from his armor. Gendry, tired, exhausted and frustrated with fighting, grabbed ahold of his hammer once more, before kicking the man’s kneecaps inwards, making him fall forwards and headfirst into to mud, not getting up again. Treading to the side, Gendry watched the green cape of the man fall over him like a blanket, soaking up the blood from his body underneath, and with a heavy chest Gendry brought his hammer above his head and smashed into into the knights skull like he would a tempered alloy. 

Only here there was no resistance, it cracked and broke beneath Gendry’s hammer like glass, making the once round and balding head into the resemblance of that of a stepped on grapefruit. It was satisfying Gendry realised, about as satisfying as it was unnecessary, but he couldn’t help it… he wanted the man dead… no, he wanted this to be over. He was tried of fighting a battle he didn’t ask for, he was tried of taking lives that wasn’t necessary to take. 

The knight and the boy had nothing to do with the rage that pushed Gendry to want blood his hands, and they had nothing to do with the murder of lord Stark, lady Stark or any of their children. They likely knew nothing of the betrayal that were the reason for this battle in the first place, yet Gendry used them as an outlet as he’d seen so many lords treat him and other lowborns before. 

It was disgusting and wrong, yet Gendry thought nothing off it as he stood above the crushed corpse of a reachman knight who’d fought honorably and fairly to serve his lord in pursuit of glory. Perhaps it was the same nothingness other lords and ladies felt whenever they stepped on the lowborns, and if that was so Gendry could do nothing but resent himself even more, for he had once again deserted his old morals and could only laugh at the irony it presented itself as. 

His heavy stare was interrupted by a large horn sounding in distance, it rung twice, and Gendry expected to see a force of ten thousand men erupt from the hill in that moment. It was far from it though, instead of more banners coming, the few that stood at the opposite end of the hill disappeared. 

_They are retreating,_ Gendry thought to himself, and watched as their frontlines dissolved and the back of the line started to run for their lives. Stunned Gendry watched in awe, refusing to believe it to be true, but he heared few of his men cheer in the back of his mind, but saw them begin to chase the fleeing reachmen down. 

“Get the cowardly scum!” 

“Let’s take their fucking heads!” 

“Running fools!” 

Comments were throws by soldiers as they ran past Gendry, who watched his soldiers jump over corpses to catch a fleeing soldier, slitting their throats and cutting them down. Confused by their behavior Gendry grabbed onto one of his passing soldiers by the neck and yelled at them to stop and let them go. The soldier stared at him in confusion for a while before realising who he was, and then obayed. Gendry continued to yell out the same commands to passing soldiers, and eventually the word had spread far enough for all but a few who was too far gone over the field to hear it. 

They were lost causes, but Gendry didn’t blame himself for their insensibility and lack of disregard to a retreating enemy. Perhaps he was too caught up in his own relief too care as well, because he kept staring off into the horizon expecting the reachmens return at any minute… but they never came, and the field of battle was left empty, ruined and covered with a sense of dread and horror. There was a ringing silence around Gendry as he stood in midst of it all, he couldn’t hear the wails of horses, and the soft cries of wounded soldiers waiting to die. 

He could barely hear himself think as he ever so slowly felt his heart go slower and slower in his chest, and his stomach dropped into a pit after a tight knot finally loosened. He was showered with a sense of disbelief, and he seemed unable to comprehend the idea that they had won the battle. He was numb to all feelings in his body, while at the same time buzzing with a tingling sensation through every nerve down his spine, arms and legs. 

Was it that he couldn’t see properly, or was it the lack of awareness that made it so his body wouldn’t move? His feet bound to a pool of blood and mud, made by the man who he’d killed seconds before, and his legs too weakly to pull them out. His eyes finally left the dark and crushed ground before him, as a warm gust of thick and moist wind fanned against his cheeks and hair, and he realised he’d completely forgotten what a nice spring day it had really been.  

The sky was a welcoming pale blue with only a few clouds to create a shadow to run over the trembled grass. Such an odd day to have taken a life on Gendry believed, and he wondered if it would’ve have made a difference if it rained or snowed, since the ground on which he stood on was about as equally soaked as it would’ve been after a storm back home. Perhaps this was why he wasn’t as bothered by his wet and clammy clothes, if you ignored the color there was really no difference he convinced himself.  

He let out a deep breath as he closed his eye and let the warm rays on sunlight his face, ignoring the stench, sound and sight of his surroundings for a short while… he was right, it was an odd day, but maybe it was also a good day to die on. Gendry could almost picture it himself, focusing on the sound of a nearby choking soldier and wondered if he too felt better dying under the warm rays, but left out the question if he could feel them at all. 

He heard steps closing in on him from behind, and while he felt his heartbeat raise at the thought of yet another enemy, he also couldn’t bring himself to care enough to look. Despite the squelching sound, the steps were too light to be that of a armored knight, and after awhile of listening to them Gendry recognised the pace of the steps and his eye flew open, his stomach swirling as reality started to hit him once more like a cold shower. 

\-- 

Arya’s eyes flew open as she sat up in a state of panic, her breath catching in her throat where she clawed her hands making sure at there was nothing there as she’d dreamt. Her mind ran wild as she looked around, trying to familiarise herself the the time and place, and even more to remembering how she’d ended up there. 

She was quick to remember, both her stroll in the forest, the arrow in the trunk, ser Rolland, the stench and chaos of the field from afar, and lastly the bony reachman scout who’d forced himself on her, but even more so she remembered the smell and sight of his blood as she sliced into his limp corpse. On cue Arya listened after the sound of struggle and screams… they were still there, meaning she hadn’t been out for long, steps sounded behind her and Davos’ soft voice reached her as he reached her. 

“My lady, good, you’re awake, I was starting to worry.” He knelt beside her and handed her a pouch of water, which he allowed her to chuck without a second's hesitation. Wiping her mouth with her sleeve she caught sight of Davos’ worried look from the corner of her eye, a sense of melancholy underneath it, a look she didn’t like. 

“What are you-... -doing here Davos?” She managed to speak, only to realise how husky and coarse her voice had become, and how much it hurt to talk. 

“I came out of concern for ser Rollands men, they were too delayed for nothing to have happened, but once I came he told me of your appearance and departure in search of the lost scout… What happened to you my lady?” 

Arya sighed, she had the explanation, she just wasn’t so sure she had the will in her to speak it, given that her words seemed to fail her before they even reached her tongue. 

“Scout-... died.”

 Was the only two words she could speak before her throat clogged up once more, she wasn’t so sure how much more he needed to know because the look in his eyes seemed to indicate that it was enough said. 

Davos silently examined Arya’s throat, face and hands before she broke his attention, “The battle?” She asked, her voice coated with desperation and concern after she’d finally come to all of her senses. 

The old man cleared his throat lightly, before looking towards the continuous sound of pain from afar. 

“Still on going I'm afraid… it’s not a pleasant sight either my lady, can’t imagine how many lives there’s been lost… but we have a chance of winning now that ser Rolland’s have forced their men out form the forest, the lad was right to have made the prediction.”

Arya’s shoulders tenses visibly at the mention of Gendry, which Davos may have recognised as a silent question, one he took great sorrow in answering as well. 

“I haven’t seen him my lady, and I can’t say with certainty that he is safe either, I lost him the moment the battle begun and haven’t been able to see him since.” 

Arya chewed her bottom lip, this had been perhaps the first time Davos had said something like that, normally she would’ve expected to tell her a white lie, telling her that he was obviously safe and that there was no need to worry. Admittedly Arya didn’t know which she would’ve liked to hear in these circumstances, maybe she would have benefitted from believing a lie that day. Perhaps it was even unhealthy for her to hear the truth, seeing as though she started to pushed herself up from the ground, a gutting feeling from wanting to see for herself like last time she was this close to the battlefield. 

Davos was quick to object, stating that it wasn’t safe to go now and that they should head back to camp to get her treated immediately, but Arya didn’t think of her wounds, she may be sore but she could disregard that feeling for now she convinced herself. Like always Davos insisted, and she was forced to mount his horse and let him take her away from the field and through the opposite edge of the forest, where the sound of swords and horses couldn’t reach them. 

Lost in thought arya didn’t know how long it took them to reach the deserted camp, where only the few nursing women walked around, biting their nails and chewing their braids in a anxious state. Helping her off the horse Davos, waved over one such nurse and asked her to tend to Arya, who despite it all kept her eyes on the horror in front of her. 

Seeing it from afar was nothing compared to how it was up close, the stench was ten times stronger here as the breeze brew the loose hairs away from her face, and the gorey sight of the lives that had been taken on the fields were all the more disturbing. Arya’s eyes scanned the fields in desperation but saw nothing up a blur of empty faces as she grew dizzy and frail once more, the lady nurse ever so slowly starting to wrap her throat and neck making her panic and push her hands off of her. 

In midst of her hysteria the sounds of horns once more echoed across the fields. They rung twice, and she caught Davos staring wide eyed and disturbed out over the field, where the green capes and banners started to run, being chased by back, grey and yellow capes in return. 

“We’ve won…” 

She heard Davos whisper quietly to himself, and Arya squeezed the stag in her hand tightly once more, opening wounds on her hand once more… It was over, but that didn’t mean she still hadn’t been too late… she would only truly know if it was all worth it until she saw him again. 

With shaky and fumbling fingers, Arya made rushed attempts to stick the pin onto her shoulder once more as she pushed the nurse away from her, knocking her over in the process. Wobbly Arya made her way out into the sea of corpses and death, all in a blind search for a man she regretted having pushed away for a week. She heard the nurse call out to her, asking her to return, but she didn’t listen. She expected to hear Davos’ voice in the midst of it as well, and if not so then have him try and stop her… but there was no resistance. 

Dizzy and broken Arya walked the field, searching it in a desperate attempt to settle this fear in her stomach. She watched the faces of the limp bodies around her, trying to recognise their face… and felt relief rush over her when she didn't. Sound of gasps and choking surrounded her, with a few only a few distressed sobs in the midst of them. Men with lost limbs crawled the grounds in search of their part, only to die when they couldn’t go further due to the corpse in the way.

Others were as still a blades of grass, their eyes blank like that of a stuffed animal, their blood ran cold, and so their wounds which had caused them to die were now mere gashes on a slice of meat. Some were lying face first into self-made puddles, others seemed as if they’d been tossed from the sky, lying in position Arya saw pitiful and undignifying.  

Her boots got sucked up into the red muddy ground as she continued further into the field, the masses getting larger and larger, and she was starting to meet with lonely soldiers who fought to make their way up the hill to the camp again. 

They had lost many, but the reachmen had lost more.

It was then Arya heard a familiar sigh in front of her, and her eyes finally moved away from searching corpses, to look at the alive image of a dirty, sweaty and blood soaked man a few paces ahead of her. Arya felt her chest grow light for the first time as she watched him... there he was, Gendry, standing as tall and lean as he’d always done. His hammer once more placed in front of him, and both of his hands were folded on top of the pommel, his leathers cut, ruined, and covered in stains of blood and decay. 

His sharp jaw was angled toward the sky, his eyes closed and she watched silently as he took in the sunlight that landed on his mud and blood covered face and hair. Her arms were weak at the sight of him, and she wanted nothing more than to call out to him, but her voice had failed her, the words hurting long before they’d even left her chest. Instead she walked closer, her eyes wanting to cry as much as from happiness and relief as from frustration and guilt. 

Her mind was eager to reach him sooner, but her body couldn’t match the pace it’d set for that to happen. Luckily for her she didn’t have to, because without knowing when, she was now staring into his only clear blue eye as he’d heard her coming. Her worry got to her a bit at the sight of his other eye not only hidden behind stains of dried blood, but a swollen and purple lid.

His expression mirrored hers as she must’ve looked equally, if not worse than he did, but to Arya her appearance didn’t matter, it never had, she could’ve lost a limb as well, so long as she was still able to see him breathe again… and he was, and so was she.

She hadn’t failed him. 

She saw him abandon his hammer, letting it fall into the ground next a corpse that had been crushed beyond recognition… That seemed unlike him. Arya didn’t let the thought linger for long in her head, as her focus shifted back him when he closed in on her and met her half way. She expected an embrace, but instead he fell to his knees in front of her, and pulling her down in the process, framing the sides of her face sighed deeply and exhaustively through his nose when kissing her. 

Arya savored it, although the taste of iron and sand strong on his lips, she couldn’t help but choke up by the fact that they were still warm. It lasted a moment, a long moment which Arya wished she could’ve prolong somehow, but his lips went from hers, to her forehead and to her temples and bridge of her nose. 

His hands were trembling from exhaustion at the sides of her face as his thumbs brushed  greasy hairs out of her face and caressed her cheeks as lightly as he could manage. Arya let him have his way, and didn’t stop him until she realised how faint his breath seemed to get, and how weakly his hand became against her cheeks. When his forehead touched hers she panicked slightly, knowing what it meant for him to do so when his hands fell from her face. 

It was her turn to cup his face in her hands, and she pulled him away to get a closer look. She’d been oblivious to his paleness underneath the mud and blood, but after the kiss she noticed how the warmth hadn’t been his, but her own since his lips were purple and the redness it had gotten from lingering on her skin didn’t last long. 

She called out to him in a broken a quiet voice, one that even she could barely hear. He wouldn’t open his other eye again and he got increasingly more and more heavy in her hands. She needed to call out to someone, to anyone who could help her get him away from the field and into the camp... but her voice was lost in a sea of wails and cries all equally as sorrowful and desperate as hers… and so she could do nothing but hold on and stay next to him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> If you're reading this that means you've gotten through this weeks issue and I want you to know I'm very proud of you since it's very long!  
> Consider this a compensation from my fuck-up last week as well as my two week break, this could well enough have been two chapters, given that its double the length of my normal ones... but I felt like y'all deserved this, so its a "double upload" as well as just a shit storm of blood and gore... cuz we out here. 
> 
> I had great fun writing this, I think it might be my new favorite chapter that I've written for this story (Tho 15 is a good runner-up ;)) I finally made Arya a killer, and Gendry got some edge as well, and I do think that this expirence have shaped the both of them in some way and will have a lasting impact for future conflicts as well as their personality. I can't wait to continue to shape them though. 
> 
> Do tell me what your favorite bit of this chapter was as well as just other things you thought about while reading this, I think mine is the part where Gendry realises the battle is done, it was enjoyable to write. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, hoped you enjoyed, until next time!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heaven and hell

Arya sighed as she brushed off the nurses hands for the fifth time that evening, she was getting tired of the young women's insisting persistence to clean and wrap Arya’s wounds. It had taken an hour to clean off Arya’s bloody palm and knuckles, the green ointment and pale pastes they applied stinging like fire as it was massaged into the open wounds. The strong smell of something minty and close to freshly cut grass lingering in the air, replacing the stench that was death and decay just outside of the camp as wounded soldiers were slowly getting patched up, all practically coated in this medical paste that the nurses and measters smeared on all wounds and scars they could get their hands on. 

It seemed like the camp would never get quiet, groans and moans sounding across the camp as sore and wounded soldiers seemed to try and celebrate as well as give their thanks to the gods for their survival. It was the the fewest that slept, properly being in too much pain to do so. Most seemed to keep to themselves, sitting in dark corners around the camp as they tried their hardest to erase the memories of the haunting horror that they’d lived through a few hours ago. 

Some of the less injured soldiers got the chores o helping the nurses carrying wounded soldiers on stretchers, and move them from tent to tent. Others were less fortunate and had gotten the orders from some of the commanders to go back out into the field, and kill off all of the sorry souls who were better off dead than to live the rest of their life in pain and trauma… it was partly to save resources; it's no use wasting precious materials on a dead man, they’d said. Supposed that was true, but Arya still pitied the few of the sobbing soldiers who, while doomed to die in the night regardless, stilled wished to live. 

While it was all fuss and commotion, most of what was to be done in terms of clearing up the field, and tending to the wounded and traumatised soldiers was to wait until sunrise. For now all that mattered was rest and more rest, something it seemed most couldn’t get enough of, in pain or not. The only person who seemed to be denied it was Arya, whose mind was in turmoil after they’d gotten back to the camp. Soldiers had come to Arya’s aide and carried Gendry up the bloody hill and into the camp, but separated him from her as soon as they reached the tents. 

Arya could say nothing to oppose it, her previous nurse, who she’d left to run off, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into a isolated tent in the opposite direction. The last sight she saw of him over her shoulder was how they carried him away like a corpse to be buried, and she wish she could’ve yelled at them at he was alive… but they most likely knew. Since then Arya had been nothing but a thorn in the young ladies side, refusing to have be touched or stripped off her clothes, listening to the endless blabbering about the scars it could leave on her body was she not treated immediately. 

She could do nothing but roll her eyes at those comments, it wasn’t like Arya didn’t already have scars, in fact as far as she knew, she had more scars on her legs than she did birthmarks on her whole body. She couldn’t care less about scars or grazes, they meant nothing to her, and so long as she hadn’t seen Gendry open his eyes again she would continue to refuse treatment… her opposing and rejections go her nowhere however, as the ladies held her down for long enough to warp the worst injuries on her body. 

When she finally got out she had clean wraps of bandages around her right hand, left arm and cheek. The smallest of her cuts were merely cleaned, leaving small red cuts all over her body and face, some that stung worse than others due the foul ointment. 

Walking through the wailing noise of the camp, Arya tried to retrace her steps back to the entrance. Here she caught flickers of torch light dance like fireflies out over the fields, soldiers all walking around with spears or swords, and gutting men with green capes and plate helmets. Arya couldn’t bare to look at it for long, and as she turned to continue she felt a large hand on her shoulder stopping her, It was Davos, his wounds had been treated more thoroughly that hers. 

His face was clean and he’d changed into clean leathers, making it almost impossible to think that he’d been a part of the battle had it not been for his white bandages on his wrist and patch on his cheek. 

“If you’re looking for him, I advise you to wait until morning my lady, he’s currently being treated…and it isn’t a pretty sight.”

Davos sighed and immediately averted her opposing glare that followed with a silent warning. He seemed to understand quite well that; waiting until morning, wasn’t an option Arya was willing to take, so he continued to explain. 

“The maester believe his left wrist is fractured, and his right shoulder seemed to have been pushed out of place, not to mention his many wounds and the severe loss of blood… as for his eye, they wouldn’t say for sure yet given that they have yet to treat it, but I think it’s best if we don’t keep our hopes too high for it.” 

Arya swallowed something thick in her throat, something that stung on it’s way down and made her mouth go dry. Arya didn’t need a report to know that it was bad, and just like she didn’t need to be told that there was probably more to it, and that Davos only told her the general aspects of it. She held her breath, wanting to throw a stern comment his way, but had long given up on trying to talk, so instead she merely deepened her frown and turned on her heel to continue on her way. Davos was persistent however, and pulled her back with a cold hand around her thin arm. 

“My lady forgive me, but I must ask that you please wait at least until the treatment is over, it will only hurt you more if you go now… The lad wouldn’t want it either… Let him have his dignity for now, please.”

He did his best to plead with her, and for a second Arya did hesitate to listen, but a knot in her stomach tightened and she remembered who she was and how little it should matter to her what Davos told her. It wasn’t about dignity, she’d already seen Gendry at his worst, and she couldn’t possibly hurt more than she already did she believed. For Arya there was nothing Gendry could possibly hide from her anymore, so even if he wanted to remain discrete and dignified it was all too late for her too see past what she already knew to be the truth. 

It wasn’t about what Gendry wanted, it was about Arya’s own selfish needs, needs she needed to have met. Needs that hadn’t been satisfied just yet like she believed they could’ve been when she left to find the scout and set her life on the line. She didn’t know how far she exactly needed to go to fill the hole in her stomach, but she knew enough to know that it didn’t stop with seeing him fall at the edge of death. So as far as Arya was concerned she didn’t care about anybody's dignity, she’d respected Gendry’s decisions enough times to defy him now. 

She wanted to portray this to Davos, but her throat burned at the idea alone, so she proceeded to stare him down with harsh and cold eyes. A threat so firm that it caused Davos’ eyes to drop and his fingers to soften enough around her arm to allow her to shrug herself free, turning on her heel and continuing into the darkness of the dimly lit camp. 

Arya’s search lasted forever in her opinion, her eyes scanning the insides of every tent she came across. No one seemed to pay much attention to her, not the nurses and especially not the wounded soldiers, she’d started at the most obvious tent, theirs, but it was dark and cold, and not even their scent was left to bid her welcome. It made goosebumps run up Arya’s arms and shoulders as she seemed to shrink at the sight, nothing about it was as she remembered it to be from that morning. Not even the mesh of pillows and blankets seemed to be as when she’d left them, in fact it seemed unimaginable to think that they could only any warmth for her now, even if she knew that they were the same fabrics that had caused her skin to burn just a few weeks ago. 

It was an uncanny sight that she felt tense to even look at now, yet she didn’t know what had changed. 

Her search brought her to the back of the east side of the camp right by the edge of forest, a forest that now seemed to loom like a breathing creature in the wind. The faint sound of a rasp groan caused her attention to snap into reality, and her legs seemed to carry her weightlessly through the darkness, and before she knew it her hands had clawed back a curtain to a hot tent and warm light pierced her eyes. Squinting as she adjusted to the light she heard an old man's voice call for her, but the continuous groans of pain stilled seemed to deafen her. 

“My lady-...- get- my lady it isn’t-...-he’s- do not-” 

It all seemed like incoherent noise to her as she blinked away the haze from her eyes, and crossed the room. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath barely escaped her as she watched with horror in her eyes bloody rags and bowls of red water surrounding the large padded bed in the back of the room. Arya couldn’t hold back the gasp that erupted her as she watched Gendry’s unconscious body whine and hiss, riggity breaths escaping him in exchange for deep and wheezy inhales. 

He laid fully dressed, coat and vest open to present a bloody and deeply wounded chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his labored breathing, the abs on his stomach shaking every so often when pain seemed to strike him. Red dyed rags stuck out from his open clothes, which was ruined after having soaked up most of the bleeding, both his own but seemingly at least half of it was a mix of many blood types. It coated his chest, neck and face red, all mixed with a deep down and coarse grains of dirt. His right eye was covered by a thick grey cloth laying on his forehead, soaking up most of the cold sweat that ran over his face and neck like pearls. 

Underneath it she saw the edges of the purple swelling bruise that had corrupted his right eye, as well as the yellow and blue marks along his jaw that connected with it just by his right temple. His left arm seemed to twitch in discomfort, where as his right side laid completely still, except a sturdy throbbing vein by the crook of his neck. 

Davos was right, it hurt to watch, and it only got worse as she closed in she realised that, but the twitching and whatever small movement his body seemed to let loose made her stomach swell up in a strange mix of relief and terror. She pushed the maester away to get a closer look, and while Arya would want nothing more but to reach out and touch him, she grew hesitant as the frail and paleness of his face made him look brittle like a clay pot… almost unrecognisable even, too far from the man Arya knew… too far from Gendry. 

She bit her lip, holding back a painful sob in her throat, as she saw her fingers barely gaze his blood coated forehead… what had the two of them become? Someone pulled her back from the bed, Davos it seemed, and she heard muffled words spoken her direction and all around her, before a large beige coated cloak blocked Arya’s fixed gaze. Her ears rung, and her arms went weak, making it impossible to break the hold on her shoulders as her mind continued to beg, plead and scream all the words her tongue couldn’t form. 

It seemed to last hours before the maesters and his nurses were done, and Arya sat curled up in a dark corner of the room when the same beige cloaked man came to speak with Davos who stood next to her, his gaze fixed on something in front of him. Arya didn’t know what, her own gaze fixed on something aimless as she thought empty thoughts and breathed warm air. 

“How is it?” She heard Davos asking tiresomely.

“Bad… uncertainty I can’t say if he’ll survive the night, but should he nonetheless I say he lives, he’ll be in pain for long time, but he’ll live… although many men have died have for less.” The old man clarified with a sigh as he wiped his hands in his thick fabrics. 

“And his eye?” 

“Still there, the cut by his brow seemed to have caused the swelling, but I believe it will calm in a few days perhaps… as for his sight I'm afraid only he’ll be able to tell if he wakes.”

Arya’s eyes snapped up at the old man in a stern glare, which was met with his hollow and baggy ones, they seemed to pity her. In a silent pause he then turned to her and bowed his head, “In the meanwhile my lady, I urge you to get treated properly, the cut will scar if-” In a deep sigh Davos interrupted the maester with a heady hand on his shoulder, and shook his head at him. In her head Arya cursed at him, and swore to see a knife by the throat at the next person that _urged_ her to get her neck treated due to the fear of a scar. 

“Leave it.”  She saw Davos mouth, and within a few moments the maester had left, and the tent was silent once more. Arya’s eyes went back to look at Gendry’s still body just across the room, and her longing to go there must’ve been obvious on her expression as Davos cleared his throat and adjusted his coat on his shoulders. 

“The soldiers are growing anxious of a reachman return, so I’m afraid I’ll have to leave him in your care for the night my lady…-” 

Arya gave him little of her attention, but his words didn’t fall for deaf ears, her hands clutching in her seat as she continued to hold herself back. Davos paused briefly, whatever he was thinking it seemed to have put him off track because his voice returned much more apparent when he continued. 

“-My advice may not be of importance to you my lady, but you to need rest as well… we can only do so much for him, the rest is in the hands of the gods.” 

Arya let out only a whimper in response, weather Davos took it as an acknowledgement to his advise or not was up him, because for Arya it was simply the result of having to endure yet another heart wrenching sob in her chest. Five breaths passed and Davos was gone, and it took her another ten to gather enough strength in her legs to push her from the chair. Three long breaths and she stood at the end of the bed, watching Gendry’s now wrapped chest rise up and down in a more steady pace, but the pain was still ingrained into his expression despite being in a sleep so deep he likely didn’t know where he was or about the pain Arya was going through watching him. 

Her nails scraped against the end of the bed frame as she bit into her cheeks, averting the sight of him as she lowered her head and finally let out whatever sound that had been building in her chest. Her eyes burning as she fought her knees to stay up rising, but it was a battle she eventually lost, and she crouched down, gasping for air in the midst of her hyperactive state. Her nails scratched the end of the bed as they fell from their hold, and went to claw her at chest, as if it could grant herself some composure as she felt her chest cave in on itself with every breath. 

It was an unbearable pain, partly because she couldn’t understand her tears. She thought she was relieved, so then why was she crying? Why as she shaking so much? and why was she scared? She had nothing to fear, yet she was quivering like a child, and it was as if her blood was replaced with ice and the goosebumps refused to leave her skin. The fear grew larger and larger in the darkest pit of her stomach, and coughing she went to hold her throat as she felt like she was swallowing shards of glass. She felt miserable and choked, and it only seemed to get worse and worse as her quivering hold grew firmer and firmer. 

_I don’t like quivery people...so let’s fix that… let’s fix that… fix it, -make it stop-, let’s fix that._ Arya head rung as she caved in on herself, but she couldn’t remove her hands as the voice kept playing in her mind, whispering, yelling, whispering, screaming… hardly there, then yelling again. She wheezed for air until yet another cough took her breath again, pain continuously running over her body as she saw faces behind her closed eyes. Bloody faces, dirty faces, faces she didn’t know. 

One with a pointy nose and baggy eyes, one with a beige cloak around its neck and grey hairs, one with a beard, one with shoulder length hair and a familiar mournful eye, one with long hazle bound hair and a familiar nose, hair that then turned copper and gave her a pouty lip. Short curly hair and broad shoulders, then a short one of similar build, a child, and then a black dressed man… Red, blue and grey, harsh yellow with pale blue eyes, and a nervous smile. 

She wanted to die, she wanted the pain to end, for her quivering to stop… and erase these hurtful images flashing before her eyes every time she closed her eyes. Gendry’s coughing made her world shatter around her, and she panicked to get to her feet, staggeredly she crawled up over the bed frame and knelt next to him on other half of the blood stained bed. Watching him with a twitching hand, Arya saw his face cringe in pain as it was clear that he tried to move. 

Gasping Arya’s left hand landed softly his collarbone while the right one was ghosting over him as she was unable touch him anywhere else in fear of hurting him further. _No-no-no-no-no-no, don't move!_ she begged in her head, watching helplessly as he didn’t heed her pleading. Her eyes caught sight of the wrap over his side and watched the the fresh white bandage slowly soaked with red blood, fidgety Arya bit her lip and glanced around to find anything to use, in a panic however she ended up using her hands, placing both of them atop of the bleeding wound. 

Arya wasn’t sure how much more she could take, his blood was warm, a warmth she knew as her own, a warmth that had brought her comfort and affection once. It was a warmth that now, despite it all, still heated up her frozen-like fingers and coated them in a comforting heat… but she didn’t want it now, not like this, and lowering her head she begged him to for once keep it to himself. 

She stayed like that for hours, trying her hardest not to put too much pressure on it, while at the same time not making her hold weightless for it to continue. She rested her forehead against her hands, silently trying to regain her composure for before, while also taking in the smell of his blood and a mixture of sweat and mint… there wasn’t a trace of his own to soothe her.

Arya wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep nor how long it lasted, because her neck snapped open at the sound of horses crying and flames eating away at wood, the smell of smoke lingering faintly in the room. _They must be burning the corpses_ , Arya thought to herself as she lifted her head and back. She went to move her hands, but hesitated when she found them glued stuck on top of each other to Gendry’s side, covered in a deep crimson red of his dried blood. She flinched when she looked up at him and saw him still breathing soundly and his expression finally calm, it made her hesitate to remove her hands, in fear that it would open the wound once more. 

Moving slowly she managed to get free, and running the back of her hands under eyes, she removed the itching feeling of dried tears under her eye. Arya made an attempt to try and swallow, but ended up flinching in pain when she realised that it still hurt just as badly as before, and it didn’t make it better when she realised that her mouth was dry and dehydrated. 

None of it seemed to matter much to her however, as she watched Gendry silently lay in his sleep, and she had no doubt in her mind that she was now the worst of the two. Her hands had gone cold again, and for that she was almost thankful as she reached out to run the back of her index finger along his bruised jaw so softly as she was sure he wouldn’t be able to feel it even if he was awake. She wondered who had hit him there, and if they were still alive for her to kill them,before it occurred to her that it was likely that Gendry himself didn’t even remember who it was. 

He’d faced so many more than she had, he’d been in the midst of chaos and death, all for some selfish revenge. Was she a monster? How was she allowed near him, how was she allowed to feel for him when she caused this mess. _You should’ve never asked him to go_ Arya cursed herself, she reminded herself that he said he would’ve done it regardless, but how could he say that now when he was on the brink of death. She needed someone to blame, but she only found herself. 

“Sorry...gods I'm sorry.” She whispered her voice still hoarse and gruff. Her hand went along his frame, from the top of his thick black hairs, down to his ears, jaw then neck, along his once pulled shoulder, and to his wrist where she found his right hand in hers. It was just as cold, dirty and dry as hers, but still she found some familiarities in his palms. She traced his rough calluses on his palm with her other hand, circling around the larger one at the root of his index finger, and weaving her fingers through his she remembered how she’d once felt the first time she’d felt them against her own palm. 

It still amazed her how large it really was compared to her own, and how different it looked to her now. His knuckles were cut and bruised, but that didn’t stop her from shifting in her seat, bringing her knees to her chin, and pressing the back of his hand against her lips and then her cheek. Silently she sat there for an unknown amount of time, simply watching his half covered face, waiting for when the time came and he would open his eyes and let her see the blue in them again. 

A nurse came in at one point, but Arya didn’t notice nor care, she checked his pulse and said something to Arya about needing to wash up. Another while passed before the maester came, checking numerous things on Gendry’s body, while at the same time given Arya an arbitrary glance ever so often. _Go ahead and judge me_ , Arya thought to herself, still not averting her eyes from Gendry’s face, his hands still locked with hers. Whatever the maester thought of her didn’t matter, how unladylike she was in her behaviour didn’t matter either, and she could care less about how repugnant she looked. They didn’t understand that Gendry was the only person she had left in her life now she could call family, and they wouldn’t be able to fathom the pain it would bring her to lose him now, much less have him out of her sight again. 

Entering and exciting people came and went throughout the day, sometimes with larger breaks at a time, but they always came back. Arya’s only sense of time was the few seconds she took her eyes off Gendry to look towards the entrance of the tent get drawn back and watched the light stream in. 

Davos opened up to the tent, tired, yet still seemed to have the most energy of the three of them. He greeted her as he placed a bucket of fresh water on the bedside table, his eyes shifting to the tray of food next to it. Cold soup and dry bread left over from when a nurse came it that morning, it was untouched, and Davos sighed as he watched Arya’s fixed stare and followed it to met her subject. 

“Status report my lady, has the lad gotten any better?” He attempted to lighten the mood, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Arya merely blinked, not shifting her gaze to meet his when she spoke softly, “I don’t know…” Her voice was quiet and broken like always, water had helped, but not much. 

He still wasn’t awake, which was all the information Arya needed to draw a conclusion, so long as he wasn’t awake he wasn’t better in her eyes. 

Davos nodded, and went to lift the cover over Gendry’s eye, but not enough for Arya to see it as well. He smiled gently before speaking, “The swelling has reduced quite a bit in only two days, the wounds have healed a fair bit as well I see, I say he’s on the gods merry way to recovery.” 

He sounded proud and well assured of his conclusion, a feeling Arya didn’t reconcile with. 

“He’s still in pain…” She responded slowly, making Davos’ hopeful expression fall as she finally met with his gaze, empty behind the eyes as she explained herself. 

“His breath still shakes… his eyes twitch whenever the maester touch him… and the veins in his shoulder throb whenever he’s moved.” 

Frankly there was much more Arya could’ve told him, but her voice still seemed to fail her when she spoke for too long. Davos seemed to get the point nonetheless, and sat down on the opposite side of her, “You seem well observed as always my lady, hopefully it won’t be too long before he wakes up now, we can’t stay here for much longer.” 

Arya looked up in question, making Davos elaborate, “The men grows more and more wary by the day, they celebrate their lords victory but some remain critical of the fact that he let them retreat… especially now that he lays unconscious and they see nothing of my lady. We need to go march east before it’s too late.” 

Arya hesitated, in truth she’d forgotten about all about life outside of the tent, and especially Gendry’s role in it, not to mention her own. What it mattered to the soldiers that she was around she knew nothing off, they’d never paid her much attention to her before, so she didn’t get why they would now merely because Gendry was in his current state, but perhaps that was the point. He was out of reach, so she was the closest thing they got to a Baratheon ruler… although right now she could think of nothing she would hate to do more than rule soldiers. 

“What do you want me to do?” She asked quietly with a defeated sigh, brushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

Davos was hesitant for a second as he blinked down at her, most likely not expecting her to be so easily swayed. She’d taken herself by surprise as well, but she figured that Davos was right when he’d told her that she could do nothing to help Gendry now. No matter how she despised that fact.

“Getting you in a better shape might be a good start, having you stand in his place for a while might be even better.” 

Arya blinked tiresomely as she sighed, “I can’t… I don’t have the authority-”

“That isn’t inherently the case now it is my lady?-...” Davos interrupted her and sat down on the other edge of the bed, his old deep brown eyes digging into hers, determination sparking inside of them, but Arya remained perplexed by his question,  “-You once told me that one of the few things you are good at is causing a distraction, and that sometimes simply satisfying people by giving them a listening ear was enough… I’ve seen it first hand to know that it is true, but even more so I know that you are capable of doing so much more when given the power. He left Storm’s End in your hands to rule, and I know that you have have not been of disappointment in the time spend we spend separated… You’re lady Baratheon of Storm’s End so long as the tides reach its walls and a lady of house Stark, Eddard Stark's daughter much less, the man himself and the closest ally of Robert’s, their beloved king… If it’s you they’ll heed, if it’s you they’ll be satisfied.”  

Arya was a bit taken back by Davos’ compliments and statements, many of which he seemed to be very confident in, but left Arya doubtful. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what Davos was getting at, and she does remember telling him those things, although it was so long ago she was amazed that the old man himself could even remember it, let alone hold on to it. 

“You want me to go to the lord and commanders and… listen to them?” 

Davos nodded after shrugging loosely, “If that is what you’d like to call it then yes, I do.” “Can’t you do that?” Arya argued confused as to why her attention would matter more than the lord closest advisor.

“Trust me I have, for hours even, but I’m afraid my attention means little to them since I have no direct power with the lad in his current state, can’t advise a man who can't hear me.” Davos pointed out, and while Arya strongly doubted that Davos had no power at all despite Gendry’s unconscious state, she had to accept his reasoning. 

“Neither can I, why would my ear mean more than ours?” 

“Because like I said, yours carry the name of a paramount- two to be exact- even if you can’t influence their lord it will still be of enough significance to them, lady or not.” 

She supposed that was true, but still, she could do no ruling and place no sentences so her task would be no different than from when she dealt with the farmer boys, or the other commoners that had voiced their complaints to her. And if Arya had learned anything over the course of time she’d held audiences, it was that men with power was not to be contempt with having a mere lady pay them a piece of her mind, name or no name… meaning it would not only be a waste of her time and energy, but their own.  

But that was Davos’ whole point to begin with was it? To distract them until Gendry awoke once more. 

“Alright… I’ll go.” Arya sighed defeatedly as she glanced back at Gendry’s still body, if she couldn’t be him of direct help, she would have to do it indirectly.  

\--

Three days more passed since Davos had convinced her to talk to the lord and knights in Gendry’s place. She’d done what he’d asked, and while not completely successful, it had been enough to have their anger and frustration subdue. Arya would be lying if she said she’d paid much attention to the details and reasoning for their complaints, because Arya quite frankly couldn’t care less. She’d done what Davos had asked of her, which was all that mattered really, and he also seemed to be quite satisfied with the results of her appearance had had on the Stormlords and their sons.

She hadn’t done it with a smile on her lips, which the lords themselves seemed to notice quiet quickly as well. It might have helped in regards to their mood, since most had averted her stare when she looked to give them a physical reaction them ever they spoke up. They’d accepted that she couldn’t speak or return their statements with promising words of reassurance, but her hollow eyes had told them enough already. 

The wounded soldiers had all been tended to, and most already seemed much more lively and optimistic about their lives than they had just a week ago. The fields outside of the camp was now nothing but a muddy wasteland, with all the bodies now burnt and horses removed and butchered, it simply looked like an empty dry patch of dirt under a blue sky. You could still find swords and maybe a shield in the midst of it under hills of dirt, and on small occasions the lowly commoners would walk the field in search of something worth taking for coin. 

Arya crossed the camp as she carried a empty wooden bucket and mindlessly headed towards the center camp fires, where the nurses and maesters would make large pots of porridge and soup in preparation for the soldiers dinner. It was also there Arya could find warm water, which was the only reason she really went there to begin with. No one spoke to her when she arrived, and no one attempted to either. 

It was perhaps her demeanor that scared them away, but it was most likely also her rank and the pin on her shoulder that forced the people to keep their distance. She dunked the bucket down into the pot, her fingertips burning when they touched the scorching waters, although the pain meant nothing much to her anymore. As she walked back in the direction of the tent she suddenly felt the weight on the buket in her hands lessen and a hand gaze her own on the handle. 

Her eyes snapped up at Ronnet who’s taken liberty in trying to take it from her. He shot a broken smile her way, although it was not less cocky and arrogant than last she’d spoken to him. “My lady let me help you with that.” 

Arya’s stare hardened, she still despised this man she realised, “No thank you.” She responded, her voice having ever so slowly come back to her over time it had rested. 

“Oh but I insist, you are still wounded, and I’d be disgraceful if I let my lady carry such a heavy object without assistance.” He objected, to which Arya abruptly stopped up in her tracks, staring murderous eyes into his forehead as he seemed instant on not meeting her gaze after that. 

“You’re already a disgrace to me Ser Ronnet, I doubt you could disappoint me more, and I'm not anymore wounded than you are, I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own water thank you.” Arya’s tongue was coated so bitterly that she felt throat go dry. 

Her stop had caused Ronnet’s hand to drop from the handle, his eyes going empty from arrogance and pride, but he didn’t seem the least bit surprised by Arya’s cold comment.  

“You really are without manners my lady, you have clearly not been taught how to treat an valuable ally, I wonder if my lord would still praise you if you were to rid him of one.” Ronnet crossed his arms over his chest, and Arya felt her jaw tighten, she rancored the fact that he hadn’t been one of the many bodies burnt over the days… but there was still time to make it so, she assured herself. 

“Be my guest, it would hardly be the first time you Conningtons break your vows to the Baratheons… and here I thought you said you wanted to _clean up_ after your ancestors, but I suppose the treacherous genes run in the family.” Arya stilled not wavering her stare at Ronnet whose scowl only deepened like the last time in the forest, chin dropping and eye narrowing. 

“You have a big mouth for a girl whose husband is sleeping with death’s arms around him, don’t you think? Perhaps that’s why he keeps you around-” Ronnet’s tone darkened and he stepped closer, but Arya stood her ground, unfazed by his threatening demeanor. His large, cold and smooth hand suddenly clenched around her face, squeezing her cheeks and forcing her face upwards to meet his eye. 

“-Big mouth’s can be quite enjoyable when utilized correctly… and they’re kept busy.” His smug gaze seemed fixed with amusement and lust, as he in a low chuckle pressed his index finger against her lips and tried to push it past her teeth. Arya’s stomach was cold with disgust as his hold on her cheeks got firmer to try and have her yelp for him, but Arya barely flinched. 

The tall red head was pressed firmly against her, and seemed instant on showing her his growing excitement against her abdomen. Not that Arya paid much mind to it, in fact she didn’t even budge against his push, but she started to see red and her mind seemed to snap. She’s give him what he wanted as well as the consequences that followed it. 

She relaxed her thoughts and jaw, parting her lips just a bit to let the cold and sweat covered finger into her mouth and gaze past her teeth. Her apparent obedece seemed to please the knight quite a bit, because and gave him enough courage to continue and was about to shove his whole finger into her mouth when Arya’s eyes hardened, and her teeth clenched down onto his finger. 

Ronnet flinched and tried to retract it, but Arya’s bite only got harder at his attempt, her eyes locked with his as she felt the skin peel under her teeth from his pull and blood poured over her tongue. He gritted his own teeth and let go around the hold he had on her cheeks and removed his body from hers. Arya seemed persistent on her hold and bit harder and harder until his yelps became loud cries of pain, asking her to stop. She was debating to simply bite his finger off completely, until she recalled what he’d said before; about ridding Gendry of an ally, and while she argued that Gendry wouldn’t need him anyways, she also accepted the idea that it was not her decision to make.  

She finally loosened her hold enough to let his bleeding finger fall from her mouth, and within a second a hard fist collided with her cheek. Holding back the need to gasp Arya merely spat the remaining blood in her mouth onto the ground and glared back at the knight whose breath was rigged and eyes furious. 

Arya looked at him with a risen brown, playing innocent as she silently shot him the question; it had been what you wanted was it not? Ronnet Connington didn’t respond to her stare, but merely stormed off, his bleeding index finger in a tight hold under his other hand. Arya was sure it would come back to haunt her one day, but she felt no remorse or regret about her actions, and once more she spat at the ground. 

Opening up to the tent Arya glanced inside with a sigh, the tent was dark and the medical smell of herbs and ointment grew strong inside. No one really came here anymore aside from Arya and Davos in the evenings, the maester came only once a day for a few seconds, but he left almost instantly since he’d long proclaimed there was nothing more to do than wait. 

Arya placed the warm water at the edge of the bed and glanced over at the mirror on the other side of the bed. The light was dim but she could clearly see her reddening cheek and her blood covered lip, so with a wetted hand she wiped her mouth and cleansed it from the irony taste. She patted down her hair adjusted her leathers, when she found herself decent enough she sighed deeply once more. It was a necessity to look decent Davos had told her; it would ease the lad if you at least looked healthy and well, can’t have him worry first thing when he wakes up. 

Arya presumed that he was right as always, and as time progressed she found herself wanting to look her best for when he woke. She wanted her pain and injuries to become seamless and unnoticeable… for it to all return back to how it once was. 

Stroking his lengthening hair out of the way Arya wettened a clean piece of cloth and squeezed the excess water out of the way. She folded it and pressed it against her cheek, making sure that it wasn’t too hot, before sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully leaning over him. She washed his forehead and cheeks carefully, her chest swelling each time she removed the warm cloth and saw the pink color rush underneath it, coloring his skin until it faded cold again. 

A small smile rose to her mouth as she brushed over his dry lips and wiped his stubbled jawline and went to rehydrate the cloth. It wasn’t that he really needed a cleaning, she’d long removed all sight of the battle off his skin, it was more for her own enjoyment as it was the only time she could sense more life in him than the sturdy and quiet breath that escaped him slowly ever passing moment. 

She placed a supporting hand on the other side of his shoulder, and continued her work in silence like she’d always done. She never spoke to him, for one because she knew he was unlikely to hear her anyways, but for another because she didn’t want him to hear her broken and raspy voice incase he could. Instead she conveyed her presence through touch, making sure to heat up her hands before she did, he’d only known them to be warm after all. 

Removing the cloth over his right eye Arya ghosted over his brow where the cut slit into the thick black hairs, it was going to be permanent they’d told her, but as the swelling and bruising around his eye had subdued she realised that it was something she could learn to live with. Replacing the cloth with a fresh one she leaned down to press her lips onto his forehead, and let her own rest against it for just a few breaths of her own to fan over him and merge together with his. 

It was going to be another quiet day she realised, and leaning back up she reached for his right hand by his side and weaved their fingers together again, playing gently with his thick black hairs that’d grown long enough to just barely touch his forehead and be considered bangs with the other. It was a new look to him she figured, one that aged him just like the stubble that grew along his cheeks and jaw had, it created a uncertainty in her gut as she wasn’t so sure which she preferred. She squeezed his hand lightly like always, a silent call out to him, but not ever expecting a response as her left hand continued downwards to fondle with his messy and ruin collar and loose hinges on his coat mindlessly. 

She called out every few moments, it had at one point become an impulsive action that she thought nothing of, and she didn’t know how many times she’d done it before she felt something pulsate beneath her hand. It was such a small beat that she barely felt it and couldn’t distinguish it from her own. It fell a second behind her own, and was about half the pressure of hers, and it wasn’t until several more beats that she noticed it’s delay and her attention spiked like a lighting strike through her body, and her head snapped to their hands. 

Trying not to make a fool of herself she stopped her impulse, and waited with a thick breath stuck in her throat as she watched their linked up hands. Then she saw it, that twitch, so small and quick that it was close impossible to see and even harder to feel. Arya’s heart quickened in pace, and waited for another, wanting to be sure she wasn’t making stuff up. 

With three breaths in between them each Arya knew she was no longer insane, and hesitantly she responded to them like before. _I'm here…_ she thought pleadingly as she watched and waited longingly. Then his fingers started to twitch more viably, and she felt his thumb press a bit more firmly against the side of her index finger. When audible exhales started to escaped him in short burst like a tired bull, Arya’s head turned back to examine his face, where she was met with a shimmering pale blue staring back at her through a low and heavy lid and thick black lashes. 

Arya stiffened like a deer before feeling all tension in her body drop from her shoulders like a boulder. She questioned her own sanity once more for a moment, as she got lost in the small slit of blue staring back at her in a hazy and empty gaze, then without thinking much of it she leaned back up to hover above his head, her left hand cupping the side of his neck and watching earnestly as his left eye fought to follow her gaze, opening his lid a tad bit more, struggling to keep it open with each slow blink. 

Could he see her? Could he feel her? Could he hear her? Was he even awake? A wreck of questions hammered against her mind as she continued to watch him and listen to his dense burst of breath. Arya contemplated screaming for a maester, to run out and find Davos and crowd the tent to nurse him, but her body was about as numb as her mind was chaotic. 

Words and cries piled up in her throat, and she couldn’t pick one to say, so she simply sat for what seemed like an eternity before his eye fell shut once more and he hissed a sharp breath through his teeth. Snapping back into reality she finally caught her footing and started to shush him, her hand roaming over his shoulders and chest as she felt him tense and heard wordless and deep groans escape him. She continued to look him in the eye, where he seemed to look right through her, cold sweat and shivers rushing over him as he started to wake up more and more. 

Her thumbs ran caressingly over his knuckles, trying her best to have him relax, where as tension from last week started to eat at Arya all over again. She knew she had to go and find someone to help, but her fear struck deeper than reason, and she couldn’t bare the thought of leaving him to sink back into sleep once more. She saw drops of her own tears fall onto his face and run down his cheeks, but she barely sensed them in her own eyes, as she finally choked out a proper call. 

“G-Gendry…” 

It didn’t help but, and she shouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t actually hear her, as her voice like that of a teenage boy and close to a whisper lower than even his deep gruffs. So she leaned down next to his ear, her cheek pressed firmly against his and whispered his name once more. 

“Gendry…” 

it didn’t kill of the tension but it did make the shivering and movement stop, she made sure she tighten her hold on his hand, and ran her other one through his hair as she listened to his breath soften once more. “You’re alright… you’re awake.” She continued to soothe, and focused on the, once again, sweat coated skin she was press up against as it seemed to ever so slowly get warmer and warmer. 

When she leaned back up again it looked as if he’d fallen asleep again, only to have his eye flutter open once more a few seconds after and found her stare once more. She waited for the pulse beneath her hand once more, but found him parting his lips and heave in a breath which he tried to replace his sound. A sound that came out deep, broken and nothing like him, she saw him try to form the words on his lips, but he barely got the first letter of her name out before he wheezed and had to give up. 

Not that it mattered to Arya, who merely gave up a weakened smile in responds to it, and brushed a soft touch over his brow once more and bit into her lip to kill off her sobs. She’d promised Davos she would look decent and well for when he woke up, yet her now burning eyes and horrible grimace threatened to ruin every aspect of that promise. Her heart was crushed beneath the release of her sobs, and digged her forehead into his collarbone as she let loose a week worth of built up sorrow and hurt. 

Everything that followed seemed to fly by quickly after that, as the evening hours struck, Davos had come, and after he’d seen Gendry state he’d turned and found the maester. They did several examinations on him, testing sight, hearing, sense of awareness and everything that fell in between those categories. the night fell and Gendry fell asleep once more and slept through the night, but Arya had in her panic and paranoid state woken him up as soon as she had herself at early dawn, and although she apologized he hadn’t seemed to mind much. 

For another two days the camp still knew nothing for their lord’s awakening, and Arya was contempt with that, and in the time spend awake Gendry had already made better progress in his recovery. His tanned composure had ever so slowly seeped back up into his features, and while still rather sore and hurting, he now had enough strength to move his right arm and shift his body, but it wasn’t quite enough for him to sit up or move around. His bruised eye had faded into the mere aftermath of a black eye, only a bit of purple lingering on his bottom lid. Every wound had had it’s stitching removed and was now healing on it’s own, and his voice and sense had come back to him even though headaches seemed to hit him frequently.

Arya’s own voice had just about returned to normal, and most of her wounds had now become small pink scars across her skin. 

“You know, you don’t have to that.” Gendry explained exhaustingly as Arya silently sat next to him on the right side of the bed, his silver pin in her hands, polishing it with quick and tiny movements. 

“I know… but I want to.” Arya mumbled under her focused stare as she did her best to clean the sharp corners of the antlers. She caught Gendry’s sigh as he rose his hand to grab it out of her small hands, and flicked it out over the bed and onto the floor. 

“Hey!-” Arya exclaimed as she went onto her knees and leaned over his body in search of the silver pin, her eyes went back to his who stared at her back with a blank intensity, “-Why did you do that?” 

“Because you’ve been fussing over it all afternoon like some maniac, and it’s getting repetitive since you did the same thing yesterday with my hinges.” He explained calmly in return, his tone deep and husky from sleep. Arya fell back to sit on her feet and folded her arms over her chest.

 “Well who else is going to do it, you can’t go out there looking like you’ve just walked in from the battlefield, you were the victor so you have to look it.” She said and scanned the floor’s once more where she found the pin under a chair in the back of the room. 

“Since when do you care about appearances?” He questioned, and sighing when Arya crawled over him once more and went to pick up the pin dusting it off with a soft blow. “Just because I may look like a slob at times doesn’t mean I enjoy it-” She explained, as she sat down against him again, a position she’d found herself found of. She turned the pin in her hand, and went to pin it down into the shoulder of his coat, “-besides, it’s an important emblem to you, so you shouldn’t be careless with it.” 

Gendry let out a low grunt as she saw him try to reach up to where she’d pinned the sigil, and frustration found its way onto his features when he gave up. “Take it off of me.” Confusion struck Arya once more and she glanced up at him. 

“huh- what, why?-” 

“Arya-... remove it.” His voice got strangely stern, and it took a toll on him to raise his voice she noticed, and although still taken aback by his rejection she did as told, placing it down on the table next to them. An apology lingered on her tongue, but she never got to speak it, before his left hand rise to touch hers that hung on her right shoulder where his also should’ve hung. 

She blinked down at him as she shoved the tightening feeling building in her gut away, he looked… mournful, before she grabbed a hold of his painful wrist that was still fractured. 

“Did you wear yours?” he breathed softly, and Arya paused slightly as she placed his arm down against his side once more. 

She about to pretend not to understand his question, when she realised that there was no point in doing that anymore. He’d long noticed the fresh scars on her hands and his eyes still wandered to the bandage wrapped around her throat at times, even though he never asked about it. Indeed she had worn it, and she was thankful for that, if she hadn’t she likely wouldn’t be alive right now. That pin allowed her to survive, and it had done so many a times now, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“Yes…” She whispered back, to which Gendry’s face only fell into further regret, biting down onto his bottom lip and chewing on it in thought. Her own heart fell a bit at the sight of him disliking it, partly because she didn’t understand why, was he not proud to have her wear it like she was? His silence was enough to have her grow anxious about it, and she placed a hand over his chest to regain his attention. 

“why?” She asked, but he never answered it. 

He glanced at her, and then the pin, his eyes switching between the two for a few breaths before turning his head away from her, “Nothing… just, don’t wear it anymore, people know you well enough by now so it’s no longer necessary to wear such a thing.” 

_Know me well enough?_ Arya thought to herself, not grasping what he was getting at as he continued to huff out and closed his eyes once more. Arya parted her lips to asked him what he meant by that, when Davos came strolling into the tent a toothy grin on his lips as he clapped his hands together.  

“Lad, Lassie! Have I got some absolutely brilliant news for you- ah, am I perhaps interrupting something?” 

Davos said stopping in his tracks as he noticed the two, but Gendry turned his head to look over at his old advisor and shook his head, “What news Davos?” The old man looked to Arya, whose words still hung on her lips unspoken, before she shut them and looked at Davos as well. 

He pulled an uncertain face but continued on closer nonetheless, “Yes, well you see, it just so happened that our; issue for another day, seems to have picked a beneficial date to break ground… letter from the spy in King’s landing came today, it appears there is to be another royal wedding soon, between one little royal brat and a young lady Tyrell, as per prediction.” Davos held up a small paper scroll between in two fingers. 

Gendry frowned a bit, and Arya stared perplexed between the two, she’d heard none of this before, but the mention of a royal wedding was already enough to send her blood boiling. 

“How's that ; brilliant news exactly?” 

Gendry asked, to Which Davos placed the paper down on the desk and sighed deeply as he shook his head. 

“For a man who has practically had one himself, not to say was about when they planned the first one, you sure are dull lad. I’ll tell ye’ a secret, weddings- royal or not- don’t come cheap… well all except maybe yours. They’re expensive, and if this really is old lady thorns little cover-up plan like she told us it was, my guess it that they’ll have to make it twice as grand and luxurious to make up for it. Wanna know what’s also incredibly expensive? And I doubt you’ll have trouble relating to this one boyo… armies. Now for a gold shitting Lannister do you think money will be a problem?-” 

Davos held out a gesturing hand, and since it was clear on Gendry’s tried face that he knew the answer, he didn’t wait very long to state the obvious. 

“-No. Now for a house such as house Tyrell who can not continuously dig out more and more gold whenever they need it, do you believe that it would be easy for them to sustain a large army on… well however many men they may have left, who not only lost a battle but are now wounded, while at the same time having to live up to the grandiose and pretentious standards the queen- and I may even surget lady Margaery Tyrell herself- will have when it comes to her little lion cubs wedding-” 

Gendry seemed just about as fed up with Davos’ rambles as Arya was confused by it, and he interrupted the old man with a roll with his blue eyes, “You know if I knew you were going to continue to give long explanations to short answers, I would’ve stayed unconscious.”  

While it may be considered a joke, Arya for one didn’t see the amusement in it, but she apparently didn’t have to because Davos caring and sincere smile was enough to cover for the both of them. 

“And If I knew you were going to continue to be a insolent dunce, I would asked the gods to knock me out in your place. Now to give you your _short_ answer, my lord, it’s it simply that without money there can be no march east back to us and their soldiers will be weakened due to shortage… that short and vague enough for ye’?” 

Gendry’s nose wrinkled as he quietly thought about something, before he looked back at Davos, “It does explain why only lord Tarly stood alone on the field that day… and why he seemed to be fewer in numbers than expected, but something also tells me that lord Randyll Tarly is a sore loser, and is more likely to fund the army himself than to end the march after us, so it won't’ make us any safer that Olenna marries off her granddaughter, in fact it changes nothing.” 

Gendry’s mutter seemed more of a recap to himself than it did a progressive solution to Davos’ news, and Davos rose a interruptive finger to clarify himself. “I think you’re inherently missing my point lad, I do believe I told you yesterday that going west to-” 

Arya’s chin shot up at the mention, Davos had spend most of yesterday briefing Gendry things he’d missed while asleep, it went from small things such as stocks to larger things like body counts, but most of their conversation… or well, it was mostly a one sided monologue from Davos, but it seemed to cover the same predicament that Arya had spend the whole week trying to soothe. The lords and knights complaints about the call back of their forces, allowing Randyll Tarly to retreat to safety. And just like yesterday Gendry now pulled the same harsh expression as he did when he was told the first time. 

His jaw clenched and his eyes icecold, it was a look Arya had seen before back when they were still preparing for the march north, perhaps even before that with the farmer boys, and maybe it was close to the look he’d given her the day she’d broken his sword by slamming it against the seaside cliff. It was a look that made even Davos uncomfortable, despite Gendry being the one bedridden and wounded. 

“I already told you Davos, I won’t look for a fight… the man fled, he lost, I won’t hunt a running man who has done me nothing.” 

“Done you nothing? Have you no sense boy? Look at the state you’re in!” Davos argued and Arya stood uncertainty in the middle of them, not knowing who exactly she should agree with. On one end Arya wanted Randyll blood to run cold for the same reasons Davos did, but Arya was more eager to go back to Storm’s End once more, and understood why Gendry refused to kill for the sake of satisfying snobby knights.

“Randyll has nothing to do with this, the man who did this is already long dead Davos, you can argue that he’s the one that gave the order but that doesn’t change the fact that he still lost, if I kill a defeated man I'm no better than my enemy.” Gendry explained, his voice strained and Arya could tell that he was reaching his limit. 

“Then what is it you want to do?” She asked out of the blue, catching Gendry’s stiff stare who blinked at her question before he sighed and lowered his tone. 

“To return home… Storm’s End have been without ruler for long enough I think.” 

Davos seemed defeated by Gendry’s answer, which confused Arya because she was sure that he just a week ago seemed to want the same thing, that had been why he asked her to distract the lords had it not? 

“Very well, but in your current state I'm afraid we’re earthbound until your-” 

“I'm okay Davos, it’ll be a day or two before everything is packed anyways, I'm sure I’ll be fine by then.” Gendry waved a nonchalant hand at his advisor, who despite his obvious doubt and wish to argue simply turned on his heel and left the tent. It was then Arya’s body stiffened as she recalled something and she hastily rose from her seat, receiving a askanced look from Gendry before she ran after Davos. 

Outside it was raining, and old air fanned against her warm body sendings shivers over her arms as she reached out to gain the old man's attention. A bit out of breath Davos looked her up and down and waited patiently for her to speak, but Arya’s heart pounded in her ears so she barely heard herself speak, although she knew by heart what she said to him. 

“What was that about a spy in King’s landing?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I'm not late I swear, I just made some last minute changes as I proof read it... and with that I mean I added on like ten pages and removed a whole pov cuz I regretted it. Now I don't have a lot to say about this one except I like it a lot, I apologize that it doesn't have as much fluff as I'd thought it would get, but I didn't want to cross my inappropriate meter and there's only so much you can do with a immobilized character, instead I made it sweet (kinda)
> 
> Cake next chapter tho, that much I swear to you! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, please tell me your thoughts and favorite bits, until next time!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change and Caress

For over a week Gendry’s world seemed to have taken a unfamiliar turn, because for one he doesn’t remember the built up to it, nor seems to have been able to forsee it’s shift. He doesn’t recall ever fainting the way Arya had told him he had, he remembers her, but not enough to distinguish it from any of his other lucid dreams that had flooded his unknowingly unconscious mind. Looking back on it he hardly sensed that he had been gone, and all the memories from the time he spend in his mind was all blurred into a vague and incomprehensible dream, like a brief nap you don’t remember having. 

The pain was very real though, when he first woke to the sound of soft cries, it felt as if his whole body had been skewered with a thousand metal rods. It was numbing but at the same time scorching as it felt like his right arm had been ripped off his body and his hand had been cut off. It was one of the experiences that seemed to be the cause of his dreams and realities melting together, strangely he felt himself looking at his left wrist for hours when Arya held it, silently doubting it’s existence as he was convinced that he’d long lost it to the butcher's son back in King’s Landing after losing his bet. 

But the idea of if was stupid and hallucinatory as he for one couldn’t find the memory of a lost hand in any other parts of his life, since that bet had happened over six years ago, and he couldn’t picture the face of the butcher's son, but he was sure he wasn’t a middle-aged man when it happened… And he was pretty sure he’d won it even. He also doesn’t remember his faceless mother ever being in the field of battle, nor lord Starks body laying in the bottom of a well with a brick laying in a puddle of his own blood next to him. Robb Stark's head amongst broken limbs, and blue eyes staring back at him as they started to move across fire lit fields. 

Some were more surreal that others, but most seemed so familiar it was hard to tell them apart of from what he remembered to be the truth. Leading him down a tunnel of doubt, despite knowing  deep down that they were fake… still he felt like he wouldn’t know any better at this point. 

The more time he spend awake however, the more he started to simply ignore them, and hoped to forget the dreams and delusions with time. They were unpleasant to think about, leaving him with a dreadful headache he couldn’t shake before his mind seemed to shut down and he fell asleep once more, only waking when Arya woke him. His days went like a downward spiral, not knowing the difference between night and day, and seemed oblivious to his own state of being. Sometimes numb, other times feeling even the dust landing on his arm.

Not that Arya had left him much space to worry about himself in her stead, the small woman swarmed him constantly like a restless fly, but with the gentle care and silence of a cat and loyalty of a dog. She never felt his right side for long, and when she did Gendry hardly got to notice her departure before she came back, apologising as she overlooked his bandages and bruises, as if they would’ve changed in the short while she was gone. 

Gendry was taken a bit aback when he first started to notice Arya’s change, he wasn't sure what is was at first, if it was simply another one of his delusions, but as time went on he grew more and more certain. Arya hadn’t smiled since he opened his eyes, and hardly spoke unless they were alone. She seemed overly cautious at all time, and became fidgety if he even as much as held his breath for more than a second, her right hand laying atop of his chest at all times if it wasn’t entwined in his hand. 

She hardly slept, and when she did it wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t peaceful like Gendry was used to either. Her brows frowning and eyes running wild beneath her lids as her hands became clammy and her hold started to tighten, her breath rickety and deep like she’d been running. It pained Gendry, physically as well as mentally, because her tremor would often be the cause of for his own awakening, since she would’ve in her sleep crept up next to him, her right hand tightly wrapped in his and her left digging into his shoulder, nails crawling at his wounded skin. 

He had to bite his tongue not to let the pain become audible, as he knew she needed the sleep. While at the same time wanting to wake her to free her from her nightmares. The first time it had happened Gendry had hissed so loudly, she had practically shot up and jumped away from him like a frightened cat. She had hold back her tears then, but Gendry wasn’t oblivious to the clear redness in her eyes when she bit her cheeks to stop them from falling. 

He’d wished for days that he could do something for her, comfort her like she were so clearly begging for in her subconscious. A thing she’d done even before the battle had begun, but if there was one thing Gendry recalled clearly it was that Arya, even then, hadn’t seemed to openly want it. It bothered Gendry more than he let on, in the beginning he’d kept his distance only because he was able to be distracted enough to let his mind off the fact that Arya hid herself from him. However, it now proved itself to be immensely more difficult to do when he was immobilized and she seemed to cling to him more, yet still remained fixated on hiding the obvious from him. 

He could handle the restless nights, partly because having her cling to him was about the only thing he could do in terms of bringing her comfort. Biting down the spikes of pain coming from her hold  wasn’t the problem for him, it was the holding up the weighing pressure on his chest of not asking her about it that was the issue, knowing she wouldn’t want to answer. 

Gendry had long spotted the white bandages around her neck, and the dreadful idea and predictions had already flooded his mind more than once, the question often lingering in his throat ready to be asked. He was playing stupid to avoid it though, hoping that his false ignorance would somehow turn into a reality that would bring him a peace of mind. 

Honestly it would’ve been so much better if he’d gone blind, by now he’d wished both of his eyeballs had simply bursted from their sockets and left him forever blinded and crippled so that he would’ve never known… Although he didn’t really mean that, it was simply a pitiful excuse to bring solace to a painful predicament. 

One thing he was quite certain off now however, was that the reasons for her tears were different. For the naked eye it was hard to tell the difference, which was likely why Davos still treated her the way he had done when she got the news of her brothers passing. For Gendry the change was almost as transparent as his own, having watched Arya cry more times than he’d like to have, he knew when she cried out of sorrow… and this wasn’t it. 

It was nothing close to it in fact, her tears weren’t sobs, they were shaken like short gusts of wind. She weren’t merely turned onto her side in search of comfort, she was turnt in search something to hide behind. Face buried in between his tricep and the mattress, and her feet lying parallel to his calves, toes pressed underneath them. Her fingers were cold, even though he knew she’d tried hard to pretend otherwise, and she seemed to shiver at odd moments, moments where she would turn stiff and seem distracted, a strange daze that could eat her breath...

These were cries of fear.

A fear Arya seemed insistant to hide from him, or even as much as hint towards in his presence. If she had seen through his act of faking his ignorance she didn’t let it on, because whenever she opened her eyes again, she merely seemed to ignore it herself. 

“You seem preoccupied lad… what is it?” Davos spoke up as Gendry turned his head to watch as Arya quietly left the tent an empty bucket in her hand, and a lazy weight to her step. Two days had passed since Gendry ordered the march east towards Storm’s End again, and the preparations were well underway. It had taken longer than usual to pack every tent and ready all men, due to the sheer fact that there were less men to do so, and most of the ones left were wounded and tired. 

Gendry had over that time gained enough strength to sit up, resting his head against the headboard of the bed, as Davos talked over the necessities of their departure. Gendry snapped his attention back at the askanced looking man with a hesitant blink, he was unsure if he could put his worry into words, especially towards Davos, a man who himself seemed to have changed a tad bit. Although his was more… subtle, in fact Gendry most likely couldn’t even point out the difference in Davos even if you allowed him time to do so. 

“I was out for too long wasn’t I?” Gendry breathed, biting down onto his cheek, to which Davos now straighten his back, his confusion becoming more apparent, before fading into a knowing gaze. 

“Certainly longer than anyone would’ve liked that's for sure, but the the gods be praised that it wasn’t longer than it was… poor lassie was running out of methods to calm the raging bastards.”  

Gendry nodded understably, he had been told that Arya had once more done his duties for him, despite it being unwillingly so on his part… sadly he hadn’t been able to voice his opinion at the time.

“Yeah… I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask her to do my job anymore, whatever the conditions may be.”

 Taken aback Davos seemed to taste test his words before speaking up again.

“Forgive me, but I hardly did, I asked her to do hers. As lady of house Baratheon it’s her duty to stand in your place when-”

Something seemed to snap in Gendry as he heard Davos address her, like a light rope being cut by a scythe Gendry’s voice rose with it’s drop. 

“Oh would you  _ please  _ stop it with that already, why are you making her out to be something she’s not, and giving her duties she doesn’t need to have. She’s a Stark still, I don’t want her to be a Baratheon outside of formalities.” 

The words seemed to fall off his tongue like wet clay, a weight loosening from his throat the moment he said them. It felt like he’d always wanted to say them, because it felt strangely relieving to speak them, although he wasn’t sure where the sudden rush of anger came from. He knew that Arya had nothing for resentment for the Baratheon name, and so did he, although he had long come to accept his ties to it as well as responsibility to carry it… she had none. Despite what she said, Gendry knew that so far the name, as well as the pin on her shoulder, carried nothing but an ill omen, an omen that had brought him close to death's door, and cost her her family. 

“I'm not making her out to be anything, she  _ is _ a lady of the Baratheon name, and it  _ is _ her duty to stand in your place when you’re not around, within and outside of formalities. I told you this when we left Storm’s End, and I'm telling you now yet again, I still do not understand your opposition to the matter… It’s not like she isn’t well capable of doing so, you read the same reports as I did, she was raised to fill this role and is willing to do so, yet it is only you that don’t want her to do it.” 

Gendry sighed deeply at Davos words,  _ obviously  _ he thought to himself as he already saw this conversation going south once more. They’d had it before, a few times in fact, the first when she’d taken his place and dealt with the farmer boys, and bunch of other times when she’d been meeting with commoners in secret around the castle, making them settle their complaints before they even as much as reached the doors to the main hall. The most prominent one was the night of the feast, it had been around day break when Davos found him out in the fields, saying all was in place for the march north… all except one thing, a stand-in ruler of Storm’s End. 

In truth Gendry hadn’t thought much of it, it had always been the maesters job, so how was it any different this time? __ _ M’lady is here, that's how, it should be her duty now,  _ Davos had explained, slightly tiresomely as well Gendry remembered, and it was the same conversation all over again. 

Duty, duty, duty. It’s her duty, It’s your duty, it always seemed to boil down to that. Duty… what a ambiguous argument Gendry believed, you could apply it to just about anything, and Davos seemed to have figured that out as well. It wasn’t like Gendry didn’t understand, it was because he  _ did _ understand that he’d allowed it each time… but there was something about this situation that had the word crawl under his skin. 

“Of course I don’t want her to, ruling a castle is not the same as ruling an army Davos, I didn’t think I would have to explain such a thing to you. Upbringing as nothing to do with it,  _ duty _ has nothing to do with it, you can’t tell me I'm wrong in not wanting her to stand in front of those people alone, especially not after you’ve told me about their dissatisfactions about  _ my _ actions.” 

Davos crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at Gendry with his own dissatisfaction, “I'm not telling you that you’re wrong, I'm saying it doesn’t matter. The lords are angry with the march east, and the lass was the only one around for them to bicker to-” 

“-and they’re angry about the lack of food, wine, whores and my existence, that's nothing knew. You’ve been around them for as long time as me, so why would you suddenly think to send her, the only woman and wife of the man they’re angry with, into their tent… for consolation? They don’t fucking need it, if things like that worked with ‘em I would’ve saved myself the time it took to gather the lordly shits and gotten here much faster.” 

Davos eyes narrowed to mirror Gendry’s own, a frown implementing itself onto his wrinkled forehead. 

“Not for consolation, for control… I'm well aware that soothing words and an outlet achieves very little from; lordly  _ shits _ , that isn’t why I pressed the issue to her. Do understand that without her, like it or not, you are the only Baratheon, and being a wounded stag surrounded by hunters isn’t a good thing lad you ought to know it. They’re angry with you for all those things yes, and they’ve been bickering for a while, but that is still no reason to ignore them. Angry lords with armored men aren’t to be been trifled with in times of war, you of all must know that by now. The lass is a symbol of your power, quite as literally as it is meant figuratively, so long as she walks the earth your name still lives, which is all that matters…Stark or not.” 

Davos finished, and it left Gendry cross. He understood his point well enough, none of it was news to him, but it changed fairly little regarding his opinion on the matter. Gendry knew it was no use discussing things with Davos, he would always try to come out on top, not that Gendry could really blame him, it was his job to change Gendry’s mind as his advisor. Which was why Gendry coldly sighed and pulled the covers off him as he swung his heavy legs over the ledge of the bed. 

“This name was forced onto _ me _ ... it lives and dies with  _ me _ … no one else.” He said sternly in between heavy breaths as he left a sore pain run through his muscles, having not bent his knees for a solid week. Davos sat still in his chair in front of him, watching him with a blank gaze as Gendry tried his best to push himself up from the bed. 

Gendry caught Davos’s brief inhale, readying himself to speak, before he was cut off by a sharp inhale from the entrance to the tent where Arya stood. Her eyes wide, and in a slight panic dropping the bucket, letting half the water spill before she caught it again. Flustered she rushed to catch Gendry by gripping onto his left arm, as his right seemed to fight to hold him upright, shooting Davos a brief look of confusion before she glare at Gendry. 

His stomach flipped, for a moment her gaze seemed to have changed back into what he seemed to recognize, finding a glimpse of life behind them as she cowled openly at him. 

“What are you doing?! You shouldn’t be standing yet!”

She rose her voice at him, and he did nothing in terms of quieting her, he simply watched her as she turned her look to Davos with a angerd look in her eye, “by the gods is it not your job to guide him, how come I'm doing both of your jobs now!?” 

Gendry glanced at Davos just in time to see him snap away from a thought, blinking at Arya’s words before he ran a palm over his patchy beard and nodded. “Yes so it seems, won't be long before I'm not needed anymore.” Arya rolled her eyes at his loose comment, “You’ll always be needed, because I refuse to drag more of your dead weight just because you’re getting old.” 

A slight adjust of her hold sent a jolt of pain through Gendry, which send his stomach curdling and his breath tight in his lungs as he hissed. Arya shot him a frustrated glare, as she attempted to have him sit again. 

“See you aren't fit for standing, would you just-” 

“I'm just fine so long as you don’t _ jam _ your finger into my damn ribs!-” Gendry cut her off brushing off her lingering hand placed on his side as she tried to push him down. 

“-Besides we’ll be leaving in a few hours anyways, might as well get used to standing whether or not it hurts… not to say I have some neglected work I need to tend to before that...” 

He glanced at Davos who frowned at his backhanded statement, and pushed himself from the chair with a deep groan from his throat, “I’ll have to carry some of my weight elsewhere if that's the case then, and leave her ladyship to do her job….Since I doubt my manner of guidance will be needed here with your latest possessive tendencies my lady.” Davos finished with a slight smirk before he turned on his heel, leaving Arya with a flustered look on her face and Gendry quite perplexed. 

“What was that about?” Gendry asked after the old man had left, and Arya shot him a hesitant look from the corner of her eye, to which she scuffed and bit her cheek. 

“Nothing.” She mumled. 

Gendry hadn’t felt in a provocative mood for a while, but the hollow in her cheeks and her held breath made it almost impossible not to be. So he steadied his footing and reached over to pinch her cheek, “You’re being possessive, ‘bout what?” he smirked, to which she gave up a light yelp and smacked his hand away with a frown, but not lessening her hold on him. 

“I’m not, and don’t use a word you don’t know what means.” She said, to which Gendry had to hold back an abrupt laughter in his chest, “I might be lacking but I'm not  _ that _ stupid-” he explained as he watched her swallow something as he caught her gaze again. She looked like a fawn, her eyes large and shimmering orange in the candle light making a glimt appear that wouldn’t otherwise be there… Fire, corpses and blue flashed before him, and he looked away, his head throbbing all of a sudden, yet he still smirked. 

“-... Don't worry...I didn’t take you for the possessive kind m’lady.” He rolled a soreness out of his spine and looked over the room in search of his clothes, the foreboding feeling still looming in his gut. That was only until Arya let go of him, and ran a unexpectedly warm hand against his neck, causing him to look back down at here, where he found reddening eyes staring back at him in empty thought.

Panic arised in his mind, as he puzzled over the suddenness of her change, and once more he found the question jumping from its place in his chest to his tongue. At least that was before she sighed and jabbed her finger into his right shoulder, sending him back into reality with the force of a stampede.

“Don’t you dare call me that again, and you  _ are _ that stupid yes, don’t use it.” she snapped, the redness fading. 

\--

The lad is odd, they’re all odd… changed might be a better word for it, but one can really only say that once they’ve gotten used to it. 

Davos had not gotten used to it, it wasn’t just Gendry had seemed to have come back to life with a strange sense of unfamiliarity. The most prominent one might be Arya, lassie, lady Baratheon, Stark, the list went on actually, the girl had many names at this point it was apparently only a matter of formality to choose which one to use. 

Throughout the whole of her stay in the camp something had started to seem off to him, Davos had had the gut feeling for a while, in fact from the moment he spoke to her in the courtyard per their departure Arya hadn’t seemed the same…

In truth he had thought nothing of it really, knowing well enough it wasn’t grief that was biting at her then, but a unannounced longing and a sense of regret. It was a tad bit amusing to watch he’ll admit, never in his life had he seen two people so cautious and wary of one another… especially when their problems lay in the same field of unfamiliarity and doubt. Her ladyship with the lads new found titles and strange ways, and the lad with her innate ones… titles that none of them lived up to, despite trying their hardest to act so towards each other. 

If only they weren’t both trying to strip them off each other as well. 

Davos had sometimes wondered whether or not that wall had faded thin, but when he looked at them now, he came to doubt its existence entirely. Davos had enough years to account for to know when such a thing is gone, out of experience really not mere elderly charm and wit like most expect of him. It amused him to see that Gendy’s troubles were no longer thoughts of how to keep her away, but how to keep her closer. 

Of course that hardly competed with Arya’s increasing attachment and possessive mindset over the week. The girl hardly seemed to sleep, and would have no one even as much as look at the lad for too long, glaring at them as if blades would shoot from their eyes and cut into his chest. Davos didn’t blame her, in fact he carried a around a warm feeling of appreciation for her, and relished in the idea that the lad, in all of his hardships, finally had someone who seemed to give him the attention he has lacked in his life.

In all of his time knowing Gendry, he had always thought him to be quite robust and well content with his own company. A lad that despite his unfortunate fate and connections still kept his head held high. Sometimes too high, but he couldn’t expect less from a young man raised in the poor slums of King’s Landing, it was a primary skill there to fake confidence and form thick skin…and the lad had it all and more to give when put on the spot, the gods give him strength Davos knew one day it would get him in trouble when faced with a larger foe. 

Gendry was also a emotional man however, something that seemed to be his strength as much as most prominent weakness. It fueled his will, but in return also his temper… a curse of the Baratheon name it seemed, Stannis too was always too easily vexed but luckily also easily brought to reason once talked to. 

Something that seemed to be close to impossible with the lad as of late. Perhaps he’d been lingering for too long in the red zone of his emotions, because it almost seemed like he’d been growing numb to the effects of his irritations. Since he woke he’s been nothing but apathetic to most around him, quite like her ladyship when she arrived, although Davos couldn’t account for how worse it had actually gotten and what the cause for it was anymore. Gendry seemed unwilling to argue, putting his foot down much harder than before, and cutting people off almost instantly if they lingered too far from his path of choice. 

Not that it was inherently a bad thing, for years he’s been too easily swayed due to his inexperience as a lord and decision maker… but now it seemed almost too harsh. Davos may seem indecisive, which he was, but that was only because he was able to find fault with both of the mentalities, in one he had too much influence, in another he scarcely had any. 

In the meeting they had had with the other lords before their departure east, he had kept mostly quiet, seeing as though Gendry was barely willing to hear any of the complaints from the displeased lords and knights around the table. Davos had spend many hours listening to their points, and Gendry was correct when he said that he wouldn’t satisfy self-righteous and pretentious knights. 

“They only want to go after him to cut his head off and get the glory and titles that should follow having done so. I don’t want to give it to them and I have no reason to do it myself, so I refuse to give them the change to-...- They’re forgetting that this is not a rebellion for the throne, and they seem fixated on trying to turn it into one-...- Try to recognize why we’re here, we went north because we had an ally, one who could take the throne should it come to that, now we don’t and the gods forbid you ask me to sit on it, I’d long throw myself in a burning pit before that’ll happen-...- I know whose head I want on a spike, lets not add to the list.” 

These were all things Gendry had said throughout the days, both in the meeting with the lords and in private. It wasn’t that Davos didn’t get his point, he knew it to be the truth, but at the same time he believed that it was not a matter of choice anymore. Saying that you didn’t want the throne was all well and done so long as it didn’t involve prestiged lords whose only support could be gained with such a purpose. 

“Might you be forgetting yourself that Robert, your father, started his own rebellion with the same intent as you… Revenge, the only reason he gained the throne was due to his better claim, something you would also be faced with even if the young lord Stark had lived, something you’ll still be faced with should another come even-...- Whether it be for glory or not, you should not keep your allies discontent, if they wanted lord Tarly’s head you should give it to them for it’s still a minor price to pay in exchange for your own-...- forfeit or not, he’s a lord, he knows the consequences of rallying an army as much as you do, you should not get to throw punches and get away with it… have you not said so yourself?” 

These were Davos’ responses to him, and even though he had only gotten Gendry to hesitate, it wasn’t enough to change his mind. He was determined to return to Storm’s end, and regain troops before he would make another choice… Although Davos had for awhile wondered if he need wait for such an opportunity to make one.

Since Arya had asked about his installed spy in King’s Landing he’s been feeling wary about her intentions. She hadn’t explained them the night she asked, merely asked how much ground this source could cover. “A lot.” He’d said, to which she seemed hesitant to continue further, which she didn’t, and under the whole march east, she never came to elaborate either.

Sitting on the back of his horse, his eyes were locked on the black stallion in front of in which carried the two, a large black and hooded cloak covering them. The lad wasn’t fit for riding, and the hours were rough for him, but he didn’t voice his complaint spite it, the gods help him if he dared it. Luckily Arya had spend no time taking the task of being his rider, stipping him of all responsibilty of steering the stubborn steed… not that anyone else could've taken that place knowing the horse. 

“Damned fool he be, marching east with no certain victory to account for the lives lost.” Rolland Storm speaks up as he pulls his horse up next to Davos and matches his pace. Davos cleared his throat before giving the young bastard a glance. 

“A victory is exactly what he has to account for and the soldiers have praised him well enough, he’s forgiven your delay but I doubt he’ll forgive loss of sense too ser Storm, you ought to remember that, the fact that we still breathe is evidence of his success… and that's enough for some people.” Davos said with a slight chill, adjusting the hood over his head as drizzle fell from the skies at a faster rate. 

“Running is no evidence of success, it’s a cowardly move, one his father wouldn’t have approved off.” He said with a huff, and Davos squinted into the road ahead of them. 

“Might I advise you to lower your voice if you are to speak of such comparisons, I won't oppose the consequences if he hears you you know, you’ve already lost most of his favor after the last meeting… Nevertheless I now feel obligated to tell you that running was exactly what Robert did at the Battle of Ashford, I’d say; ask your own father for he was there after all, but something so quintessential should hardly be of any news to a honorable Stormlander such as yourself… unless it isn’t, which in such case I would ask you who exactly you are to judge our lord on matters of warfare when facts like that seems to fail you.”

Davos wasn’t much for being rude, it wasn’t his job to be so, it was to mend whatever Gendry had done in  _ his _ rudeness, and Davos had had quite the workload as of late. Rolland wasn’t crude in nature either, in fact some might suggest he was more polite than even his trueborn half-brother. Yet he was a knight, and all knights take offence when striped of glory after having tasted it once, it turned their sweetness bitter. 

“It failed me not, but it was a retreat, we’re discussing pursuit ser, and what's he to do if he hears me, can barely ride his horse without her ladyship, barely win a battle without her either.” He huffed. 

“She wouldn’t have been necessary were you able to follow orders-” 

“I followed my orders!” Rolland snapped, and Davos inhaled deeply to calm his nerves, “Too well I might add, stripped you of common sense…not to worry though, I’ll tell our lord to be more considerate of it next time.” 

He’d vexed the brute man, the loud huff and offended laughter through gritted teeth made it clear. Davos had little care for it of course, Rolland wasn’t lord nor willing to bet his knighthood and titles to oppose Gendry’s rule… he could be vexed until the sky turned red and still Davos wouldn’t mind it. 

He was truly only embarrassing himself and the house which he represented.

“Your tongue has grown loose since he woke up, stay wary it doesn’t slip too much Ser Davos, What wouldn’t your lord say if none will join you for the march north again.” He said with a more composed tone. 

“North again? Why of earth would we do that when we’ve just left it?” 

The dark haired young man glanced smugly at Davos, as he rolled his shoulders making his armor rattle. “You mean to tell me you haven’t heard the rumors? Spread like wildfire by the time we left Arcon Hall...You must’ve been so cooped up in my lords orders you’ve lost all control, everybody knows of it by now, why else do you think even the lords oppose this, they believe it to be a detour, how silly it must be to go north, south, then east only to be sent north once more?” 

Davos dismissed his obvious attempt at a counter attack, purely because he was left confused by his words. Davos had heard of no rumors worthy of notation since Acorn, and definitely not one that could’ve captured the lords attention above their bickering about lord Tarly’s head. 

“What rumor?” He breathed. 

“Well the capture of Winterfell of course, by the Boltons, surely everybody knows that Lord Baratheon is not as dismissive as to ignore such an personal ordeal… since he seems to favor those.” 

Davos recoiled inwards into his mind, muffeling Rolland’s words as he went on. Never in his life had be believed to be so unfortunate as he would soon find himself to become, and the gods had yet again exceeded his expectations of just how much pity he could have for one pair. 

\--

By the time they passed the Grassy vale they had already ridden for another four days, and they believed to reach the borders of The Stormlands in two days time. Arya had grown restless riding a horse for hours on end, hardly ever stopping and when they did there was waited little time to fall asleep. The weather was warm and moist most of the time, a combination Arya found herself hating more so than even the scorching summer heat of King’s Landing. Not that it was her primary concern, she simply had no taste for discomfort and even less for wasted time. 

Not that traveling was really a waste of time, it was necessary, Arya simply hated how much of it it took. She hadn’t imagined herself ever missing the wheezing wind and hard rain as much as she did. Perhaps it was in her genes as a Stark to favor harsh environments… or her change of heart as a Baratheon that made her almost miss it. The scornful remembrance form the place when she’d first arrived there had all but faded into nothing. She realised now that she’d been naive to ever think that it could not be any worse, and now she had nothing but fondness from the peace and innocence she’d experienced there. 

Having Gendry’s head lay heavily against the crook of her shoulder, made her stomach flutter as she relished in the memories of when it wasn’t so. In her mind she day dreamed about the quiet afternoon hours of the blaconey, and the comfort she got from a moment where so little was said. Now his silence made her uneasy, if it wasn’t for the fact that she could feel his heart pounding against her back, she may have acted on her concerns about it, but it wasn’t so, it was firm and pronounced. Gendry had gotten better over the course of time, there was no disputing that, he made his presence more known to her more often for reasons unknown, but not unappreciated on her part. 

Pressing a light kiss down unto her shoulder whenever he woke or felt her go too still, a hand quietly and slowly caressing the flat of her stomach, and a low hum whenever he shifted that vibrated against her skin. All small notions Arya savored the second they lasted, and regretfully couldn’t return in fear of hurting him. His soreness didn’t go unnoticed by her, even though his attempts at making it so was obvious, he bit back groans and tried to keep his grimaces at a minimum. 

His body spoke volumes however, and he was an idiot if he thought Arya could ignore the tensity in his muscles whenever he hurt, it wasn’t like she was stuck against him like tar for hours on end on a horse after all. Which was why she was hesitant to touch him still outside of those hours, and he seemed to notice.

“I won’t break you know.” He’d commented one night as they sat inside their small tent, Arya slowly unwrapping the bandage from his left wrist to change it. Her finger’s barely touched him, and if they did she’d retract them once she saw the nerve beneath the skin tighten… She wasn’t blind nor a fool, she knew pain when she saw it. 

Her eyes frowned as she merely continued her work, “So you’ve said.” She adjusted her sitting on her legs as she felt them go numb from her own weight, and just as she did he retracted his hand from hers and pulled the rest of the bandage of it himself in a short sigh. 

“ah-” 

She spoke to interrupt, her hands reaching out to grab it again when he took ahold of it himself and rubbed it as he held it up to her. 

“See, perfectly fine-” A hiss from his own throat cut himself short, and once more Arya’s eyes narrowed and she went to grab it again. 

“Stop lying to me Gendry, I can tell that it-” she argued and started tried to take it from his hold, but he merely held it further away from her, the the other side of him making her extend her arm further until she lost balance. On hand landing on his thigh and another into the blankets, she sighed until she felt the muscle beneath her palm tense. She was about to retract and apologise, when to warm hands landed on her sides and pulled her back practically dragging her into his lap. 

She saw his brow raise in a silent question as the suddenness of the action had stunned her. Sitting face front against him Arya lost her breath and control of sense and proper thought, and it wasn’t until he squeezed her sides lightly that she snapped out of her trance and attempted to pull back. Now wasn’t the time to be tempted, nor the time to slip into a place of disregard and earnest… no matter how it ate at her to just that. 

He insisted on troubling her however, and simply continued to hold her in place, until his complacency turned into restraint, and Arya had to adjust her sitting to lessen the pain he seemed instant to hold. Putting her legs on either side of him she placed herself between his instead of on them and grabbed his left wrist from her side and held up, yanking it a bit harder than meant to. 

Parting his lips he held back a whine, to which she sighed and examined it, “It’s fractured you bull, of course it’s not fine yet.” she mumbled to which went to grab the clean bandage and this time he allowed her to finish her task. He fell quiet, but Arya feared looking back up at him as she felt her heart pound in her chest from the mere sound of his breathing alone, her glance only falling to his chest rising and falling in her paracentral vision. 

“You aren’t fair you know…” He breathed softly, the warmth of his sigh reaching her cheeks and calming her nerves as her whole body seemed to recognise the sensation that followed it. Closing her eyes she asked, “How so?” 

“This… You caring so much… makes me question why only you’re the only one allowed to hide.” She heard the attempted smile in his tone, but it was underlined with disappointment so thick she froze. 

She hadn’t really thought about it much, she hadn’t meant to hide it from him, she’d merely put him above it. Her pain meant little to herself, partly because it wasn’t physical pain, her soreness had long passed and she was content in distracting herself with his. Still she wouldn’t deny her reasons for her distractions, her nightmares still haunted her and it left her exhausted and chilled to the bone every night. In her dreams she saw only death stare back at her, she heard only voices of people she could no longer meet and felt trapped in her own mind as it all collapsed around her. She wanted to hide it from herself, and hope that it would pass before anyone's notice, perhaps she was naive to think she was able to do so towards him, but perhaps more so to think their contact over the last two weeks had been one sided. 

“You never asked.” She said after a pause. 

“I know you don’t want me to.” he said immediately afterwards, and Arya stopped tending to his wrist, and now only focused on his hand in hers, she ached for it’s touch, yet she had to stay considerate, as he was to her in all other ways. 

Finally she looked up at him, and while darkness filled the room it didn’t cover the sincerity and eagerness in his dark eyes. It was gutting her how much they made her feel safe and how much she was able to relish in their attention even in the dark where she was hardly able to see their true color. She was like sheer silk under their gaze, unable to hide anything and begging to be touched. Swallowing something thick in her throat she felt her breath become to heavy for her nose and she parted her lips to ease it. 

“I have nothing to tell.” She confessed, not inherently a lie, he could ask all he want but she lacked the words to describe what she was feeling, truth be told she most likely didn’t even have to with him.  

“You have everything to tell, but I won’t-” 

“Ask me then.” Her voice came out more of a plead than a demand, and more whimery than expected. He paused due to her tone, and cursed he pulled back from her a bit to look at her, eyes that made her feel bare. He hesitated until he looked her in the eyes again and sighed, “Where…-” 

“The forest.” She interrupted, the suspense combined with how he weaved their fingers together in the blankets killing her. He let out a shaken breath, and she bit her lip not to react to the feeling it sent down her spine. “I left for the forest early that morning, I… I didn’t know of the attack nor the ambush. I met Ser Rolland and-” 

So far nothing was of much news to him, Rolland had told Gendry of her appearance in the forest in their meeting four days ago, and to say that he’d been angered was an understatement, not so much due to her being there, but at the fact that she’d been let go so easily and abandoned afterwards. What he hadn’t been told was what followed her leave… and the cause for the thin scar on her throat that he seemed specifically attentive to. 

She would be surprised if he hadn’t already figured it out, but worse be he wanted her to confirm what he was likely suspecting.  

“And what?” He whispered after she’d held her tongue for too long. 

“and...I was caught... and I killed-.” She wrenched as she forced the words to leave her lips, the pointy nose flashed her vision and hysterical laughter pierced her ears. She was barely able to notice Gendry’s reaction before she felt her hands go cold and the side of her neck burn, flinching when her head was nudged upwards and a gentle kiss was placed underneath her jaw. 

She tensed and bit down onto her lips not to whimper too loudly as fear stuck her like a brick, wanting to push him hold away from her, while at the same time wanting to wrap herself around him. His hold on her right hand tightened and his left thumb brushed against her skin gently. His lips continued to linger at the edge of her throat and under her jaw, each kiss making it harder and harder to suppress the tears in her eyes from the horror and bliss fighting for control over her senses. 

“It’s okay.” He breathed out quietly between each kiss, interrupting the echo in her mind with his own raspy voice.  _ They’re not the same, They’re not the same. _ Arya repeated in her mind as she imagined cold where there was really warmth, and long nails where there was calluses. She needed something more convincing, and her left hand rose to land on his warm and firm chest, but barely ghosted it when she felt the touch of linen against her finger tips. 

He was hurting, she couldn’t willing touch him like he did her… and he talked about being fair. He sighed against her skin, before he leaned in closer until her palm laid flat against his chest. “It’s okay.” He mutter again, and finally Arya was unable to control her tears as they fell from her eyes and down her cheeks, and Gendry didn’t notice them until they mingled with his open kisses and he pulled away. 

Arya didn’t want to, but she opened her eyes just enough to see him with a sorrowful and apologetic look to him in the dark. It crushed her heart more to see, and his hand left her neck to cup her cheek and wiped away the sobless tears. He pulled her in to kiss on her forehead, “I'm so sorry.” he mumbled as he kissed her temples and bridge of her nose, and crushing her as he may have already forgotten last time he did so. 

She couldn’t take it, and in his attempt to move elsewhere Arya tilted her head enough to capture his lips and breathe him in. Finally she sobbed as he returned it, and she was oblivious to her instinctive smile against his lips that was the cause him wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. Her hands went to his shoulders, and roamed his back, retracing what she knew and explored the new, he tensed beneath it and she wanted to retract but he objected. 

“Arya please don’t… I’m fine, perfect even.” He spoke between breaths, begging her not to falter, and while it took her some convincing she stayed. In response he placed wet and open kisses over the paper-thin scar and she waved both her hands into his hair to hold him in place until the pain was gone, and her sobs were quiet moans of pleasure. 

Arya wasted no time off her own to kiss the top of his head repeatedly, occasionally stopping to make sure she breathed correctly. She cupped his face and placed butterfly kisses over the bridge of his nose, repeating the pattern as he’d done her. He chuckled shortly softly, kissing  whichever part of her face was closest as she moved around in return. Wiping away remaining tears on her cheeks in the meanwhile with his thumbs, and Arya could no longer cry as it all flipped into relief. 

Not yet had she really been able to hold him as her own, not in the way she’d really wanted to, and while she still longed for more, she was more than content. Being in his arms was enough, having him alive was enough, every part of the moment was enough so long as she could open her eyes again and find his blue. She kissed his shoulder, collarbone and bicep as he did nothing but watch her.

He let out a rickety sigh making Arya pause in her place, as Gendry leaned against her ear, heavy as he’d been for days. “I can’t tell you how worried I was you know… waking up alone so suddenly… you scared me.” He confessed and dug her forehead deeper into the crook of his neck, returning the weight and continued to have her right hand roam over his arm. 

He may not have known it but Arya apologized then to him for the hundredth time, for her own selfishness and her greed, and for all that is yet to come.

“I’m sorry… gods I am so sorry Gendry, I shouldn’t have- I wouldn’t have and then you went and-… I-I was so scared.” She muttered into his skin, unable to word which part of any of her stress she was really speaking of anymore. She pecked his shoulder once more when he sighed at her, it wasn’t that he’d been unaware of it, and she knew that he still had questions about it that he was being too considerate to ask.

He stroked the back of her head and caressed her lower back and allowed themselves to sit in each other's embrace for a while longer. They had never been the pair to talk much about their feelings, in fact most of it was left unsaid, yet they both somehow knew… and was content with it. Why it was different this time around no one was inclined to say, might it be the rift death’s face tore between them… looming so closely around the both of them that they only had themselves to turn to. For Arya it was fear of leaving them unsaid, to be misunderstood, and while Sansa had always told her that actions speak louder than words, she also believed that words where a fundamental aspect of proper communication. 

It was unknown to Arya what lead Gendry to speak his mind, she had her suspicions knowing his personality, but it seemed to her as if something broke down between them once more. “You know how I promised you revenge right?” he asked quietly, to which she nodded against his skin. “I intend to keep it... so you have nothing worry about… so... will you promise me something in return?” He asked slowly, waiting for Arya’s response. 

She nodded once more after a brief pause, not out of hesitation, but sheer confusion, for she was already to promise her life away to him if that’s what he wanted. “Promise me you won’t continue to beat yourself up over this… I’ll let it go in return if you do.” He whispered against her ear and squeezed her tightly against him, to which she nodded without hesitation. 

“Gods I love you.” 

He mumbled against her hair as he kissed the side of her head, and Arya felt air escape her lungs for the moment it lasted. She had never heard such words directed towards her, not from anyone but her family and even those didn’t feel as euphoric as this. It wasn’t like Arya had ever doubted his care for her, and neither had she towards him, either before nor after her realisation of what that care really meant. 

She knew long ago she loved him, the gods be damned if that wasn’t clear by now, and while she’d never thought herself to return such gesture she found herself lifting her head from his shoulder and breathed the same confession in return before wrapping herself in his essence once more in a deep kiss.

 “Gods I love you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Late again, whats my excuse? Got none, I just had writers block and lacked will power, so I thought I would talk away from it for a few days and come back, week goes by and here we are, and what a sweet ending it was. I thought I would weave in a Davos POV for perspective as well as a bit of foreshadowing for the future. 
> 
> I want to mention there is likely only one (or two all depending) chapter left before I'll take a brief hiatus to kind of figure out where to go next, I've been thinking of making a part 2 but I could also just make it all in one and lessen confusion, but I don't know... gotta figure out where to go next first, but trust that I do have plenty ideas already, just need to finish the details and maybe get a head start on it as well... 
> 
> Do tell me your favotire bit, your thoughts and maybe something you would like to see in the future, until next time!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return, Choice and Far End.

The sight of Storm’s End erupting from the horizon was an outlandish to Gendry, it almost seemed like a mirage through the morning fog, dew hanging heavy in the air as the sun fought to shine through organza like clouds. He somewhat expected the banners to have turned red upon their arrival, yet yellow still hung from windstill flag post and cold walls. It must really be true then, that the castle couldn’t fall, truly it was like an independent organism that seemed to thrive no matter it’s ruler, because Gendry was certain of its demise after he’d left it. If he did word such a speculation he would’ve had Davos laughter haunt him for the rest of his life, no doubt that man didn’t have a sheed of concern for its well being, nor its power. 

_Only a Baratheon can rule over this castle, it’s magic will never bend to another or it shall crumble into the sea beneath it._ The old man had explained the first day he’d brought Gendry to its coast, he’d scuffed at the idea, sounded like nothing but a woodlands tale to him. He wasn’t a Baratheon he’d stated in response to it, to which Davos had crossed his arms and glanced at the tower, _This will be your ultimate trail then, for if it really isn’t so we shan’t see the sunrise tomorrow._  

Well here he stood, three years later, watching the sun rise from behind it’s black screen, with a knot tight in his stomach as he could no longer dispute the horrid curse of his heritage. He really was a Baratheon.  

“They seem excited to see you back.” Arya commented as she watched the farmers wave a call out form their fields as they spotted the yellow banners they carried. Gendry recoiled a scuff as he followed her gaze to see them gather and run towards the roads, “Glad to see someone is.” He mumbled, to which Arya leaned back into his chest with a sigh, “You did the right thing to come back, commoners are usually the hardest crowd to please, so if they are satisfied it matters less what the lords think.” 

“How so?” He grumbled as he rested his chin on top of her head, and continued to look ahead on the distant silhouette of a castle as the morning sun became more and more apparent. 

“Commoners talk, and it’s one of the reasons their influence is much more significant than most believe it to be, it’s likely they don’t know it themselves in fact, but that doesn’t really matter. Without them the lords would have nothing to rule over, which is why they try so hard to please them. If they believe you to be good they’ll spread the word of your doings favorably, if they don’t it won't even matter if you made gold fall from the sky, they’ll still speak ill of you and can twist the tales of the events to lessen your accomplishments purely out of spite. Other commoners will hear of it and spread the word further and further, and all depending on the opinion it will worsen or become grander… In other words; a butterfly effect that has the power to either crush or boost your reputation.” Arya explained indifferently as she followed the sight of children running to their parents in high spirits. 

Gendry chuckled at her disregard and smiled against her hair, “You think it’s been boosted by this, why?” He heard the smile on her lips, “Yes, wouldn’t you be happy to have your family member back, and possibly alive? You’ve got to remember that war means little to farmers, they rarely benefit from them, and it’s a costly ordeal for them since it’s their labor that funds the marches-.” 

Gendry didn’t forget, he knew how little wars really meant for a commoner, they hardly paid them much mind. Only when the war comes close to them and risk the safety of their livelihoods do they really care about where, when and why the war is happening. It’s not that they are oblivious to them, people gossip, but they scarcely thought much of it, who ruled them mattered not. One lord was rarely any different from another, all being money-hungry, greedy and neglectful of their people anyways so a change rarely held much significance. 

He spoke from experience when he said that he’d never cared about who sat on the iron throne before, it wasn’t his business. The king didn’t put bread on his table, his own hard labor did, so then why should he care about someone who doesn’t benefit him? He shouldn’t have to, not until he suddenly did have to, and it very much became his business whose ass sat on the royal chair. Now it was his job to care, both in benefit of the people he was supposed to have responsibility for, and himself and his own neck… so far it wasn’t a very favorable one.

“- Oh yes not to mention that they’d obviously be proud of the lord who made the mighty Randyll Tarly run for the hills, not even their beloved king could do that.” Arya followed up and Gendry pulled a face that she luckily didn’t get to notice. 

“Even though I didn’t kill him?” 

She sighed and ran a hand over his knee as she nodded, “Even though you didn’t kill him. Sometimes scaring someone off makes more of an impact than killing them you know, think of it this way, Randyll has to now live with the embarrassment for the rest of his life, it’s sure to have wounded his pride.” Arya explained rather self-assured. 

“That's exactly what I fear.” Gendry breathed out in return, low enough for it to pass as unintelligible mumble that was muffled by a salty gust of wind. At least he no longer had to deal with the aggravating lords as they had all disbursed back to their keeps and castles having now served the army in half. He didn’t mind it, in fact he’d encouraged their doing so for the time being, they would need the forces around the border now… or at least until Gendry figured out what to do next. 

Randyll was sure to follow up on his retreat at one point, and he wouldn’t doubt that the Lannisters would now also point their swords his direction. Now that they were not only bound to the Tyrells through marriage, but out of sheer damage control, they had had the Starks oppose them once more, and Gendry had supported them and refused to bow down after their fall. A man like Tywin Lannister was sure to take that personally, and bringing down the Baratheon bastard was sure to be a valuable aspect to his résúme in more that one way.

He was running out of allies to turn to, and he could hardly imagine what other troubling news he would return to in a few hours. He sighed deeply at the thought of it before he felt a brief kiss press against the crook of his stubbled jaw, and he looked down at Arya who sat with a content look in her eyes in response to his perplexity. 

“It’ll be alright.” She muttered, before she took advantage of his now lowered head and pecked his lips, which he barely got to respond to before it was gone and she bit her lip and blinked.

 “Say… would it be too much trouble for Davos if we simply bolted away from here and met with him later? It’s been so long since I’ve run the fields and I'm quite frankly getting tired of riding in this pace… That is if you could handle it?” She finished off softly. 

Gendry’s pain had lessened significantly over the week it took to reach the fields of Storm’s End from Grassy vale, sure he was still a bit sore from time to time, and the gods knew he couldn’t swing a hammer above his head without being screwed with pain anytime soon… pain he’d been told would last for quite some time, but it was hardly enough for him to dismiss such a request from her. 

He glanced briefly over his shoulder where Davos rode just a few paces behind them, seemingly oblivious to most around him, his stare desolate and empty as he was surely lost in thought as always. Gendry bit his cheek, and then smirked as he took the reins from Arya’s hand and tightened them around his, before pressing his heels into Coals sides that set him into a sudden sprint. Arya yelped in front of him as she clamped her hands onto both of his thighs to maintain balance, her breath becoming light in amusement as they’d within but a few seconds already distanced themselves significantly from the marching army. 

The speed of which they moved over the gravel road was electrifying, a freeing feeling Gendry had nearly forgotten as much as it seemed his horse had missed it. Once far enough Gendry heard Arya’s light chuckle, and looking down at her as her airy smile brought a swirl of affection to his chest. Seeing the grimt of familiarity and joy on her face was enough to server any of his concerns, and it brought him comfort to see it once more as it had been negated over the last two months. 

He wasted no time to pull away from her glow to look back at the marching army from down the hill, when he saw no one chase them he knew he was allowed to go. Gendry lightheartedly lowered himself to kiss Arya’s cheek and whisper in her ears as he moved the reins back in her anticipative hands. 

“Have at it.” He breathed, and watched to see Arya’s face light up even more as she weaverd the leather reins around her fingers and palms. Giving Gendry as little warning as he’d done her when putting the horse in motion, he hardly got to move his hands to the saddle before she’d kicked the eager stallion once more, making it jump back into a gallop exceeding of the previous sprint. He let out a deep chuckle as he caught grip of the saddle with one hand and her waist with another, close to oblivious to the pain it brought to his right shoulder and spine. 

She pulled a sharp right and lead the horse astray from the road and into the dewy forest, weaving through trees and leaping over trunks and ditches as if it was nothing. Gendry kept his head leveled with hers in case she in her bewilderment had forgotten about his height and size, as she seemed to take some risky chances through the more dense part of the forest that could leave him with even more redlines if he wasn’t careful. 

They exited the forest to enter into a large open field covered in high grass and wild weeds, a place where the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter and the air run a bit colder. Coals long strides caused the awakening of resting wildlife and insects that could flutter into the air upon his arrival. In his search Gendry saw deer flee into the forest once more, and something scuttle through the grass. He could only see the tip off the black castle there, but it was so far that the color of the banner was indistinguishable. 

A place far enough to be liberating, but close enough to still be a part of reality he concluded. It wasn’t a consequence that Arya had brought them here, just as it wasn’t a consequence that she’d asked in the first place, she’d wanted to go here. Her airy laughter seemed to belong here, and her gaze seemed to roam the field almost as if she’d missed it. Her contentment was his peace… and it had always been that way ever since he first laid eyes upon her, he knew their unexpected marriage had been a burden to her as much as it had been to him. Having been able to lessen that burden and her troubles had been a priority of his, even before he came to love her as he did now. 

While he was only ever able to give her moments of freedom and slices of immunity, he never took it for granted as her sincerity always been to be returned by the tenth folds in his opinion. Now was no difference, and it would never be he realised. 

For moments he seemed to have lost track of where they were, and when he returned to his conscious he found the sound of waves echo in his ears as the sight the navy blue sea erupted in front of him. Melting together with the morning horizon and contrasting with the white cliff side, a comforting feeling of home seemed to hit him. Looking to his side Storm’s End was now undoubtedly closer, and much lighter as the sun had risen enough to vaporise the sea fog around it, leaving behind its clear image and ummistabelable features… yellow banners. 

“What a strange feeling this is… feels like forever since I saw it last-.” Arya spoke between heavy breaths, having taken liberty in stopping the horse at the edge of the cliffside as there was no other way to ride. Gendry could do nothing but agree with her, it had been forever, and he wasn’t the same as when he left either, yet here it stood, unchanged and unfazed by the happenings over the course of the last year. 

“-It’s still home though, that much hasn’t changed.” She continued. 

His stare snapped back at her in confusion from her statement, he’d never thought she would consider it such a thing, much less admit to it, knowing her discontent to it upon first glance and how she’d despised the idea of living there. She seemed to notice the cause of his stare and rose a knowing brow at him in return, “What? It’s true, it really hasn’t.” 

“Arya you-” He started and felt words fail him as she smiled at him softly and draped her arms around his sides and buried her head into his chest looking out towards the sea. “I’m what…” She sighed and Gendry had to mentally gut himself out of a feverish daydream to respond to it. “You’re ridiculous.” He ended after a moment's pause to figure out exactly what she was, and ridiculous wasn't even close to summarise her in truth. 

An amused and satisfied huff escaped her as she only tightened her hold, whereas Gendry picked up the reins she’d let herself drop, making sure Coal wasn’t going to suddenly take off again. It was then he had an epiphany, and realised just exactly why this moment seemed to hurt so much as it did.

 “You know I’ve thinking… about what comes next, or at least I’ve tried to-” He felt Arya stiffen against him, as if quite possibly bracing herself for whatever else could come out of his mouth, he didn’t have the best track record when it came to confessing to her he’ll admit, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised by her recoil. 

“- and I’ve got nothing… nothing that makes any logical sense I should say. I’ve considered all the possible and stupid ideas that come to mind but… there’s nothing.” By the time He’d finished she was already relaxed once more, but she somewhat refused to move before Coal became restless and started to tap his hooves against the ground. 

She pulled back, and he caught her glance out over his shoulder towards the castle, her eyes narrowing slightly before looking back at him. He stared at her patiently, and she parted her lips a couple of times before actually speaking, trying her hardest to erase any doubt in her mind. “Then maybe you shouldn’t do anything.” Gendry frowned at her comment as she sounded almost too nonchalant about it, he was even about to question her when she elaborated further whilst clearing her throat. 

“I mean, you’re right… nothing makes much sense anymore and with the lords as they are, it would be a poor decision to summon them again...I'm certainly in no rush to see them once more. I think a break would do us all good, besides, you’ve won this round, if they feel the need to bring you to heel let them come to you.” She said slight more assured of her choice of advise. 

Gendry stared at her, muddled by her words as he let them resonate in his head; Do nothing, was that an option? He didn’t think so, or at least he’d never considered it to be, for the last half year he’s been fighting for things to go by quicker, if not for her demand then for his own. Doing nothing so suddenly felt wrong somehow, yet it made the most sense to him and the situation. He wasn’t clear on who to fight next and neither where he should go… so why should he go anywhere? 

“Stay here… you sure?” He asked in his bewilderment, to which she re-thought the idea shortly and nodded. “huh…” He echoed and re-thought he idea of it himself, but it somehow didn’t settle well in his stomach, and for some reason that fact made Arya chuckle as she took the reins from his hands once more, turning the horse around to head for the castle miles from them, slowly following the path along the coast. 

“Don’t be so dumbfounded by it, it’s not that crazy of a concept.” She laughed, and once more he had to agree with that statement, and he swallowed something bitter in his throat before he spoke up again.

“No, no it’s not, it's just that… I guess I just didn’t expect you to suggest it.” He confessed, and for a moment Arya’s face dropped and her shoulders fell. She nibbled on her bottom lip sending a unsettling feeling into Gendry’s chest, and he was about to question it when she inhaled sharply and folded her hands in her lap, playing with her nails like a mouth harp, leaving Coal to pick his own pace.

“You expected me to demand you go to King’s Landing…-” She blurred out, and quite instantaneously her bleak tone made Gendry feel as if he should feel guilt by her comment. He would be slightly embarrassed to admit that it was exactly what he’d expected, and almost hoped for in truth. He been so close to doing it just for the sake of it, but doubt and uncertainty kept holding him back, but he knew that if she was to ask it of him he wouldn’t even as much as hesitate. No matter consequence of such actions. 

“-You know I learnt not too long ago that-… That Sansa could potentially still be alive, held captive by the Lannisters in the Red Keep still and I-” She seemed to struggle to get the words out properly, but Gendry had already heard enough to set a rush of concern and urgency through his body. “Wait what? When did you learn of this and- and from who?” Gendry stutterd through his words, the mention of a another Stark sent his veins burning as he’d at that point believed them all -except Arya- to be extinct. 

Arya fell in her words  a couple of times before being able to fully finish her sentence, “Sandor- The hound, he told me that Sansa was the one that sent him- to bring me back to King’s Landing to her-  in return of payment. But he didn’t know if she was even alive anymore and knew nothing that would indicate otherwise which was why I was able to bribe him into taking me to you instead… I was in denial for a while, but then you told me of Robb and I just-... I thought that maybe there was a possibility.” She breathed and Gendry stared at her in pure disbelief and dismay as she explained herself. 

“Why haven’t you told me sooner?” He questioned slowly in response, who which she glanced back up at him from the corner of her eyes and rolled her shoulder to regain some confidence in herself as she straightened her back. “I wanted to, really, but then things got in the way and-... It wasn’t until Davos mentioned a spy in King’s Landing that it occured to me again, but after everything that's happened and with how things are now I just… I am scared to know the truth. I don’t even know if I could handle knowing and so I thought that maybe I was better off not being any the wiser… but I just can’t shake the feeling of doubting it and think of all the; what-if’s. If she’s alive what wouldn’t they do to her if they saw us at their gates, and if she isn’t- I wouldn’t have a clear way of knowing… and I'm not sure I want to cling to false hope anymore only to be let down again for the sake of wishful thinking.” 

Her explanation seemed to exhaust her, and run her empty of air as her breathing had become increasingly more heavy in her throat, making her tone bland and slow. Gendry said nothing in return after she’d finished, he seemed incapable of forming a set of words for her comfort. He understood why she was hesitant, asking Davos’ spy would doom her to a potential fourth heart wrenching message, and even Gendry wasn’t so sure he wanted to experience that. He knew exactly what the Lannisters would do to her sister if they had her and they marched on King’s Landing, and he knew they would play into that idea even if they didn’t but they knew of their unawareness to the matter which was very likely.

It was a risk Arya was scared to take, and a choice he chose to respect. 

He grabbed the reins she’d let go and stirred Coal onto the path once more, glaring as the castle ever so slowly got closer and closer. “Did the bastard tell you anything else?” He asked softly, and Arya rested her head against his collar and shrugged loosely, “Nothing that could lead me to a more likely scenario, told me that she was in King’s Landing last he saw her… which was months ago, and he knew nothing that could indicate if she was still there since he claims not to work for the crown anymore.” 

“And you believed him?” Gendry scuffed, sulking over the fact that he really had managed to escape from the men he’d sent after him like promised. He would’ve liked to have seen that man suffer for once, in return of everything he’d given to hundreds of innocents civilians under his so called; service to the crown. What that animal of a man hadn’t done for entertainment for the royal brat was beyond what Gendry wished to know, and now that he’d been crowned king he could hardly imagine what else he could do now that he had both power and freedom.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, but he wouldn’t have brought me to you instead of King’s Landing if there wasn’t some form of disloyalty towards them.” Arya sighed as she closed her eyes and seemed lost in whatever she saw behind her lids, and Gendry pulled a face at the mere thought of the hound having done anything but brought her to him. “So long as I don’t have to see him again I could care less about where his loyalty stands.” 

Arya chuckled tiresomely as she rose a hand to caress the side of his neck in silent reassurance, the tip of her fingers tugging the short hairs at his nape. “Doubt you’ll have to with the greeting you presented him with last.”

“What would you’ve had me done, greet him with open arms and a plate of gold?” He grumbled sarcastically, to which Arya smiled softly and opened her eyes, smiling as she placed both of her hands on either side of his cheeks  behind her and squeezed his face into a more theatrical pout. 

“Oh of course not towards him, but I wouldn’t have minded the gesture, instead I receive such a grim demeanor and a cold shoulder.” 

Gendry yanked his head out of her blind grasp, and in response to it reached up to hers, placing his large palm under her chin and using his fingers to squeeze in her cheeks as she’d done him, her chuckle becoming lighter in her throat. Shaking her head from side to side he tilted it upwards to look her in the eyes, teasing her like a child, while lavishing in the life of her narrowed eyes in amusement, “You know well enough why you didn’t receive such a _gesture_ young lady, not like your own greeting was very flattering you think?” he mocked her tone and watched her smile widen slightly despite her mushed cheeks. 

“I do think so actually... since you gave me little reason to think otherwise.” She gave up a sly smirk, to which Gendry’s brows frowned when he’d understood exactly which part of her so called “greeting” she was referring to, and felt a spike of arousal run through his body. He’d be damned if he allowed her that satisfaction now, and mirroring her grimace and giving a brief tilt to his head he kicked Carols sides, startling the creature and causing it to suddenly kick backwards. 

Arya was whipped forward and out of Gendry’s hold, her hands and upper body clinging to the neck of the horse, her hands weaved into its black mane. She’d let out a startled yelp, and shot a cold glare back at Gendry, who only met her gaze with an unruly sense of pride and quiet amusement. “You’re a jerk do you know that?”  He shrugged nonchalantly, “Been pointed out to me once or twice yes...why, don’t like it?” 

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt the need to tease her about something she’d likely long forgotten about, but strangely that sentence had always lingered with him ever since she’d said it in the gardens. It had been the first time she’d attempted to vex him, but he’d been under too much pressure to give it any regard at the time, but he does remember the slyness of her tone in the moment… the true side of Arya.

She huffed and pushed herself back up, “I doubt me liking it or not will have any effect on your rudeness.” She brushed her hair out of the way, and Gendry smirked to himself once more, “You think _I’m_ rude?” He teased, and she nodded. 

“Extremely… but we wouldn’t have been compatible if you weren’t, I swear I would’ve strangled you in your sleep if you continued to act the way you did in King’s Landing.” 

Gendry cringed a bit, knowing what she may be referring to but kept his composure as that had been beyond his control, acting restlessly in such a place could cost one their head. “ah yes, because I'm the only one of us who acted out of place back then.”

 “You were, you didn’t see me recoil whenever someone spoke to me.” She said and Gendry laughed at her irony. 

“Arya I was the target for most of it, and yes I saw plenty too, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl so unsure of how to shake someone's hand.” Gendry chuckled deeply and watched Arya’s face twist into disbelief and light dismay, “You were spying on me then?”

Gendry shrugged, “More like passing by, funnily enough I’d just left the grounds that day to get materials, not that they came of use when I returned but you know-” 

“I already apologized for that.” Arya interrupted with a huff, and Gendry sighed at the memory of how she’d looked the moment he’d found her with his sword in her clutches. “Doesn’t mean it’s forgiven, do you know how hard I worked to gain the metals to make it?” He faked his disappointment, given away by the broad smile that was formed due to her grimace. 

“You’ve mentioned it yes, what did you do with it then, fixed it like a proper blacksmith would?” She asked rather challenging, and Gendry frowned in response, “Oh gods no, threw it out, no sword can handle being heated that many times… not that it mattered, the sword was obviously already pretty brittle, I would’ve ended up disappointed anyways, so your little fit was a great trail… it failed it, so I’ll simply have to try again.”  He teased and heard Arya groan in frustration as she rolled her eyes and rubbed her shoulder up against him like a restless pup, “Don’t bring it up again, I'm trying to forget about it you know!” 

“Really? I'm quite fond the memory.” Gendry mumbled to himself in satisfaction, and Arya looked up at him from her place on his collar, “Don’t give me a new reason to strangle you, you were almost off the hook.” She threatened indifferently, her fake sneer making Gendry unable to hide the amused smirk it brought to his lips. “Save it, I’m sure I can find someone whose more deserving of your wrath.” He teased, but it didn’t bring the intended reaction from her. 

She grew quiet, holding her breath for a moment longer than prefered and glanced down at her hands in her lap, “Yes I’m sure you could… but-... I still think I could wait a while longer.” She breathed, Gendry cleared his throat uncomfortably, he’d managed to tread on the exact thing he he’d tried to avoid and crushing the moment in the meanwhile. It had been his intention to clear of the thoughts of her sister, and seeing how their conversation came full circle he’d say he’d ruined that attempt, and inhaling sharply through his nose he sighed deeply. 

“You sure that’s what you want?” 

Arya shrugged in response, “For now… yes-” Turning her head she caressed his throat with the bridge of her nose, “-...What about you, could you?” 

Gendry grimaced as he watched the road in front of him, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Marching on King’s Landing seemed like the most obvious choice, get them before they get him and all… but then again, was he really willing to go through it again, all the hassle and stress he’d just gotten rid off? If it was for the sake of the promise; yes, obviously, but for the sake for the sake of his own frustration and merely to rid himself of it all completely; no not so much. He knew deep down that it would never really be over, this conflict would haunt him to his deathbed, and likely what he left behind as well… but a break couldn’t be so bad could it? 

“I’ll think about it.” He mumbled, and took one last glance at the black castle before setting the horse into another gallop. If he must do his job he might as well get on with it, he hated leaving work undone and ignored after all… it was like raw meat, leave out too long and it’ll eventually rot. 

\-- 

Upon arrival the whole castle was in turmoil, familiar faced running around in panic and urgency, yelling orders at each other that then would get thrown further down the questionable rank-ladder. For Arya the sight was a most pleasant, not because of the initiate chaos, but the life and joy in the servants faces as they fulfilled those orders and tasks. It joyed her that they shared the same feelings upon their return to the castle, perhaps it was due to their immediate idea that they were now somehow more safe with their lord home. Surely Arya knew from experience that it was not out of joy of getting the extra work, it was the fewest there that actually enjoyed their tasks. 

Being locked in a castle without protection and a leader in times of war was assuredly stressful for commoners, if an enemy came it would undoubtedly affect them the most, given that it would their lives that would pay the price of an invitation. Arya had always thought that they couldn’t possibly have such worries if what Davos said was true; this castle is unbreakable, but she supposed that even supersitius people carried some doubt about their own myths. The words; what if, carried a greater power than most gave it credit for that's for sure. 

Wounded soldiers were carried to healing tents, wagons were being emptied and horses were taken to stables and fields. All unpacking as quickly as possible to see to a fitting meal afterwards, Arya too could use a warm filling mean, having lived on leek soup and dry bread for weeks on end was quite frankly getting old in her opinion. They entered the grounds rather unnoticed by most, which suited her just fine, as being crowded had never been high on her list of favorites. The one person she’d been unable to escape however was Nasella, who’d been at her side like a hawk as soon as Arya sat foot on homes ground, her back aching and legs sore as she staggered on uneasy feet. 

“My-my ladyship, oh thanks the heavens you’ve returned, I’ve been the utmost worried for your safety since I heard of your vanishment!” Arya smiled inwardly as she watched the timid young girl fiddle with her fingers against her chest, seeming almost out of breath as she spoke in such haste Arya was impressed her tongue could even keep up with her. It pleased her more to see her healing had progressed further, and more so that she seemed even more confident with her words. 

“Happy to see you too Nasella, you been well?” Arya asked casually, trying her hardest to dismiss the part about her unannounced leave towards the north, in fact she’d long forgotten she’d left without further notice. Nasella seemed uninterested in Arya’s wishes for the subject, letting loose of her frustration with a hasty tongue, a fidgety posture, “My lady please, have you any idea how much fuss you caused when you didn’t return to the balcony after the letter? I hardly knew what to do with myself, the-the septa's spend hours questioning me of your whereabouts- I could say nothing, but they didn’t believe me and-” 

Her incoherent blabber stroke an odd feeling of guilt in Arya’s stomach, and she flinched when he heard Gendry dismount behind her, a restrained grunt escaping him as he landed on the firm ground. “Seems I'm the not the only one troubled by your impulsive habit.” Arya glared over her shoulder, shooting a sharp stare at Gendry as he pushed the hood from his toned face, and begun loosening the saddle from Coal who was breathing heavily and most likely aching for some freshwater. 

“I left a note leaving maester Tiren in charge.” She explained to him, to which he shot her a narrow gaze and nodded, “That makes it all better does it?” He was strangely smug about it, but Arya merely shrugged, “I never claimed that it did, just that I wasn’t _that_ reckless.” She clarified, and watched Gendry nod nonchalantly in response as he continued to unhinge the leathers on his horse. 

A choked noise caught Aryas attention as she looked back to see Nasella stiffer than a board and eyes as wide as teacups, breath caught in her throat and fear smeared out over her expression. “m-” Arya rose a brow at the timid girl whose eyes seemed fixated on something over her shoulder. She seemed troubled with forcing words out of her throat and Arya tilted her head slightly to intercept her stare, “What is it? you’re pale.” Arya examined, and followed her fixated stare over her shoulder and had an indisputable need to laugh suddenly.

She’d almost forgotten that Nasella had never met Gendry in person, but knew enough to know that she feared him and his capabilities. Although Arya wasn’t so sure if her fear was based of cowardice or admiration, she hoped for the latter undoubtedly, but seeing how she reacted the first time she’d trespassed onto the balcony, and how much she was anxious about it all other times even after he’d left for the north, she suspected it was the prior. 

Gendry himself seemed to have paid her little mind, in fact Arya doubted he even concerned himself with it since he likely didn’t know her, so Arya took a chance that left Nasella even more stiff and corpse-like. “Gendry is this Nasella Forel, one of the survivors from the shipwreck a few months back.” Arya called out, catching Gendry's attention yet again as he pulled off the heavy saddle from the sweat drenched horse.

He gave the girl a short glance before stepping up next to Arya and reached out his hand, which Nasella took little interest in shaking, “Oh I know you, you’re the Essoi girl from the wreck, so you do have a name then. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to check up on you since then, but I trust you’ve found yourself at home yet?” He greeted with a lighthearted smile, a smile Arya knew from experience was enough to melt anyone's front. 

Nasella however might be a different matter, as she stared at his hand in a mix of awe and horror. Arya’s eyes darted between the two, and Gendry shot her quizzically look from the corner of his eye before he retracted his hand. Nasella parted her lips several times to speak, but words failed her each time, and Arya had to step in once more to urge her on, “She’s Braavosi actually, she’s been training with me on the balcony a couple of times to-.” Arya explained and Gendry nodded along, where as Nasella recoiled and panicked instantly, causing a fit as she interrupted. 

“Ah- no I-!”

She was quick to cover her own mouth with both of her hands, and when her eyes met Gendry’s she looked down at her feet. It’d stunned Gendry and left Arya puzzled as she seemed unable to see the cause for her uproar. “ _I did no such thing m-my lord._ ” Her voice was a wheezing whisper, so small no one within an arm's reach could really hear it, and it took Arya a double take to make sure she heard her right. 

“I'm sorry what was that?” Gendry let up an hesitant chuckle in response to it, he must’ve really not hear her because he looked twice the confused as Arya was. Nasella nibbled on her bottom lip, and squeezing her eyes together she rose her head and took in a deep breath, “It was never my intentions to ignore my lords orders I merely got lost and then I-” 

Her confession seemed to last ages, and Arya had ignored the rest of it, as she’d finally understood where her sudden change if demeanor came from. Gendry seemed overwhelmed by her shower of words thrown his direction, and it was obvious that he was not following the least of what she was actually apologising for, and when the girl was done and had lowered her hair once more, he looked to Arya for consultation. She had none to give but a roll on her eyes and shrug on her shoulders, to which Gendry seemed to resolve to his own solution.

“Um right… forgive me if I seem at a loss, but whatever you did can’t be that bad if she’s already forgiven you.” Gendry responded gesturing to Arya with a gentle nod, who sighed and glanced back at the girl in time to see her head shoot up in disbelief and catch Gendry’s apologetic smile, which was wiped off his face due to a short wrench when he adjusted the saddle over his arm. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, I can’t stay around, I’m needed elsewhere I think” He confessed as his head went to overlook the grounds, likely in search of Davos to go apologise for their run-off. “You’ll be alright?” Arya asked, to which he nodded casually, “yeah- yes, I will… ehrm, see you around?” He finished off with a light pat on her head before he reached for the reins behind them and turned to leave, Arya mouthing a farewell of her own in return. 

She followed his figure for a while, before Nasellas deep and shaken sigh of relief reached her, “What was that about?” Arya asked suddenly with a narrow puzzled glare, which startled Nasella who was dusting off her apron, still biting down onto her bottom lip when meeting with her lady’s gaze. 

“I-I… oh my lady why didn’t warn me I- he- you- ah, why did you have to mention the balcony? What wouldn’t he do to me now my lady!” She exclaimed and Arya frowned, “Do to you? He just forgave you.” 

“He might just be saying that my lady, no husband would admit to-” 

“ _Nasella_!” Arya interrupted firmly, firmer than might needed, because it sure didn’t lack any remorse, but she refused to take insult from her as well. She was shy and nervous but that didn’t excuse such offence. Arya had to bite her tongue not to continue, having to give her the benefit of the doubt regardless, being her only friend in the castle and all, and leveling her tone she continued as her mother would have. “I don’t know why you doubt him but I sure as hell don’t, take my word for it then if you won't take his like he said.” 

Nasella seemed taken aback by Arya’s sudden jolt of enmity, she may not have known that it was her new norm as of late. She swallowed something thickly in her throat, rolling her thumbs over her knuckles as she tried to defend herself, “My lady I only… It was only because- umm, you see there’s been so much talk around here as of late, about the war… and I’ve seen it too, the young lord he…-” 

A knot formed in Arya’s gut, she knew how easily Nasella was swayed by gossip, but somehow it was as if there was more to it this time around. “What’s been said about him?” Arya demanded to known, and Nasella recoiled to Arya own indifference. “That he’s ruthless… more so than when he left. That he has no forgiveness and little regard to give. Took down fifty men single handedly, broke their bone and skulls with his bare hands, they talk of how he made Lord Tarly scream when he fled and-... Some have even mentioned a second coming of Durran, hence why even the Storms have gone quiet these months.”  

For some reason Arya pulled a face as Nasella’s story got more and more unbelievable. In hindsight Arya couldn’t exactly see what was wrong with the story, except that it was fake of course, but in terms of his reputation it seemed like the exact type of flatterment a lord at war would want. Not something Gendry himself might find exciting, with the mention of even Durran Godsgrief, but that much Arya was able to disregard. She understood why a timid and shy girl like Nasella thought that threatening, but for everybody else… it brought a whole new meaning to their smiles that's for sure.  

For Nasella’s sake however Arya softened up and have her a brief smile, “Did he seem like a man who has little regard to give?” The Braavosi girl seemed to linger in thought before shaking her head, and Arya nodded, satisfied with the answer, “Exactly, so you can rest assured nothing will happen to you… Now with that settled, you recon there’s any place in this castle where a girl can get a slice of meat?” 

\-- 

A burning sensation immediately bled through Gendry’s skin as soon as Arya laid hands on him, the stench of mint and something foul cutting into his nostrils making his stomach turn and his head dizzy. It was an infuriating stench that Gendry had no notion of being this strong, throughout the whole camp that minty smell had always loomed around him, but he had been left clueless as to just excelty horrid it really was up close. He covered his mouth with his hand, pushing down the urge to gag as Arya quite immediately wrapped a hand around his upper arm, holding him in place in case he should run. 

“If you move Baratheon I swear to the gods I’ll use force.” Arya threatened behind gritted teeth, and Gendry lifted his fingers to take in a deep breath that only seemed to coak his tongue and throat in an obscure taste of whatever it was that stench carried with it. He bit his cheek to somehow kill of the taste, but only ended up making himself gag, which made him jerk and earned him a smack to the back of his head. 

“I'm sorry, but what the fuck are you smearing on me?” He asked his words muffled by his hand, glancing over his shoulder where Arya sat with a clay pot of a moss green paste and a scowl on her face. It was late evening and most of the castle, soldiers and maids alike were clogged up down in the hall for the long awaited and well deserved feast, their yelling and singing so loud it had practically sent the entire castle shaking. For Gendry however there had been little in terms of celebrating or enjoying their homecoming, as Arya had taken it upon herself to drag him to their chambers, place him on their bed and strip him of all that kept him warm, insisting on giving him some sort of treatment. 

He’d hoped for a peaceful and early rest in a soft bed and clean clothes, but it seemed at that very moment that he might as well drop such a wish, as the stench from whatever “treatment” she was performing was sure to linger and ruin the rest of his night. Around them laid old bandages, his tunic and dirty rags, Arya’s legs wrapped around his waist to hold him in place as she examined his bare back, her two fingers slowly massaging the paste into his right shoulder. 

“Do I look like I know what it is? The maester just told me it would help soothe the soreness now that your wounds are fully closed, so just bare with it. I’ve put it on you before so why are you being such a wimp about it now?” Arya explained, pulling his arm backwards to straighten his posture once more, and Gendry shook his head in opposition.

“This is not the same thing, this is ten times worse, you sure he didn’t just give you some kind of rat poison or acid?” 

“No, he did not, he might just have altered it a bit for it to fit it purpose, and it’s not that bad you’re just overreacting.” She said casually in return, to which Gendry resisted the urge to jerk once more when her fingers rounded a knot at the edge of his shoulder blade. “Not that bad? You’re kidding right? It fucking burns!” He spoke behind a tight jaw, and knowing Arya she was likely to simply roll her eyes in return to his complaints, since she made no indication to stop whatever she was doing. 

Instead he felt  her shift in her seat behind him, and pushing herself up she placed a soft kiss against his nape, “You’re doing great.” She stated coldy, to which Gendry recoiled and cringed away from her touch as the warmth from her lips was a stark contrast to the chilling air around them, making him shiver and only feel more cold after it was gone. 

“Ah, don’t do that, it’s fucking freezing in here.” He hissed, and she sighed at his shivering, har warm breath fanning over his spine, “I already lit a fire, give it time would you?” 

There was a moment's pause between the two, one she spend continuously rubbing on the medical paste, and one he spend biting back groans of pain as Arya roamed around the spots where he would ache more. His body language gave away more than his actual tone, his body tensing and relaxing with each stroke of her fingers, it was a dreadful thing to call pleasing, since he’d never thought the time would come where he would rather avoid her touch. 

A loud knock interrupted them just as he caught Arya inhaling to speak up, and glancing over at the large wooden door Davos opened up with a peculiar expression on his face when he noticed the two. He cleared his throat while closing the door behind him, and while Gendry expected Arya to move away she stayed in her place behind him, legs keeping him locked in place as well. Davos scanned the dimly lit room shortly before stepping in closer, his distant demeanor already giving Gendry an odd sense of dread. 

“Hope I'm not interrupting anything.” He started out, and Gendry shifted stiffly to face his advisor, Arya hardly paying Davos any mind at all. “Just torture really, nothing too important… why?” Gendry questioned with a bief smirk, before Arya took offence and continued on with her so called torture, making Gendry groan in discomfort. 

Davos nodded in understanding, and simply paced across the room, his steps leading him to the wall long window overlooking the still sea. He folded his hand behind his back and took a deep breath, the way he did when Gendry was either about to get an earful or distressing new, and given his distraught stare it was likely the latter. 

Gendry shot Arya a look from over his shoulder, which she responded with a shrug, seemingly also getting the same feeling as he did. So grabbing Arya’s ankles he unhingned himself, and scooched to the edge of the bed, where he bent down and grabbed his tunic, throwing it over his head before he stood up. 

“Something worth the bleak demeanor Davos, or are you simply waiting your turn? If so I wouldn’t recommend it, stings like a bitch.” 

Gendry opened up after Davos held his tongue for a concerning amount of time, the old man didn’t respond softy to his joke however, simply cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. “My lord, do you remember when I told you I would always do my best to be a use to you as I have been your uncle?” the dryness in his tone, almost made Gendry feel as unsettled and disturbed as the courtesy of using his title did. 

Davos never called him by title in private room, only when he meant to make the urgency of the problem absolutely clear to Gendry… a reminder of how crucial his role exactly was. Gendry did remember him telling him so, it had only been a few days after he had gotten his lordship and new name. The mere thought of it was enough to kill off the minty smell that stuck to him, and replace it with that of the dusty cellar of a room he’d been locked up in at the time, a hint of vomit mixed into the dense air. 

He swallowed at the recollection of it and nodded, “Yeah… I do.” 

The old man finally turned to look at his young lord with an guilty gaze as he lowered his head, “Well then I must apologize to you now my lord, for I fear that I have come to let you down and failed to keep my promise to you… you as well my lady.” He continued, looking Arya’s way who was caught by surprise by her inclusion of the unannounced matter.  

Wary and impatient Gendry felt the need to cut in, “Davos whatever you feel the need to apologise for, I’m sure is not that bad-.” 

“No it very much is; that bad I'm afraid, I fear my pride may have clouded my judgement and ability to fulfill my duty to you as your advisor… hence I have managed to overlook certain factors which have now lead us into a problem I seem unable to decipher without needing your- both of your immediate knowledge of and reactions.” His words slipped his tongue with a pace unfit for such a usually calm man, so unusual it made only seemed to worsen the knot in Gendry’s stomach. 

When Gendry seemed inadequate to find a way to respond, Arya took over, likely feeling inclined to do so after having been suddenly involved in Davos’ apology. “You’re not making sense Davos, what problem are you talking about?” 

Gendry watched as the old man rubbed his now long and unkempt beard that had turned significantly more gray over the course of the march. He averted Arya’s puzzled stare before sighing deeply, “A rumor - of sorts - seems to have been sprouting in our ranks, of a certain… seizure of my lady’s home; Winterfell, over the course of our march back south. With the loss of their-... lords, it was left too vulnerable to the opposing threat growing in the north. I believed it to be nothing more than a mere tale between wary souls, but it indeed seems that my judgement have failed me, and for that I’m sorry.” 

It was like the air had fallen dense, cold and moist with a silence so thick and dreadful it weighed one down into a immobile state. Gendry’s own body was showered with an adrenaline rush so quickly he felt numb, and his mind a blank when he attempted to hear some of his thoughts. At first he wanted to laugh to the point of tears, then he got increasingly more angry to the point where he felt his nostrils twist in a sneer...and then he felt nothing but dread once more.  

Davos himself seemed uncomfortable with the words that had passed his throat, but passively standing idly by and kept the eye contact with Gendry, giving him no opportunity to doubt the legitimacy of what he’d told them. In his hands he held a small scoll, it had been crumbled and re-opened a couple of times, but nonetheless it still carried with it the same message. Gendry stepped over to rip it from his hold, taking in deep breaths and glancing at a still Arya before opening it. 

And it was all very true… Winterfell had fallen into the hands of the Boltons, with the support of the Lannisters and the Freys. It was like a sick dream, but a even more repulsive reality, and Gendry spent several moments to restrain himself from breaking things at that very moment. Instead he took three heavy steps towards Arya and handed her the letter, she took it, but was hesitant to read it. 

“When did you hear of this?” Gendry held back the sneer in his throat, but Davos took his words like he hadn’t been. “Heard of it? a week ago. Confirmed it? Couple of hours ago.” He cleafied with a leveled tone, and Gendry had to close his eyes when he felt rage build in his chest again, “From who?” “Ser Rolland Storm my lord, he mentioned it started spreading about Acorn Hall, though from what I can tell it wasn’t believed before Bitterbridge.” 

“Why have I not heard of it?” Gendry continued onwards. 

“Likely the same reason I haven’t, been too preoccupied with the war to have heard of it, you may forget but we spent little time mingling with the soldiers after you returned from the Twins.” 

“No-no, that's no excuse, you just told me Ser Rolland knew of it, and if he knew then so did everybody else, so why didn’t any of them even as much as _mention_ it to me?” A sliver of anger escaped Gendry’s chest, and he had to grit his teeth to catch himself, his knuckles turning white at his side. 

“I suppose they thought you knew of it, Ser Rolland seemed surprised when he heard I knew nothing off it, and given the importance of my work he must’ve thought it wouldn't slip past my attention…and with my lady’s appearance I believe they must’ve wanted to keep it under a tight lock, you haven’t been the most forgiven as of late you must remember.” 

Davos may be right, he would’ve strangled the first to tell him out of pure spite, but that didn’t mean he should be left untold… especially not on such a matter. “So what? What would you have me do now?!” Gendry’s tone rose with worry and anger as he started to pace the room, a scene Davos must’ve been familiar with, because he seemed to handle it with a steady hand and calm voice. It wasn’t as calm as Arya’s was when she interrupted Davos’ attempt to respond to Gendry’s ray of questions though. 

“What of Bran? I’m sure my brother left Bran in Winterfell if he marched south, then-” Arya began her questions, but Davos was merciful and cut her off before she got her hopes too high up. “I know nothing more beyond what that letter tells me, and what I can gather from the rumors… And no one mentions any son of Lord Stark left in Winterfell, not before or after your brothers’ march south.” 

Arya shoulder feel like weights of string, her gaze becoming empty as her breath tightened in her throat. “There’s nothing to be done then.” she then whispered under a defeated breath.

Her voice was coated with as much assurance as it was dread, as if she needed it said for it to make sense. Gendry was quite quickly opposed to this however, and stopping abruptly he shot her a grimace of confusion, “Arya are you hearing yourself speak right now; nothing do be done? Your home had been taken away from your family and you’re saying nothing can be done, I think it’s quite obvious what’s to be done!” 

Like snapping out of a transe Arya shot him a glare, “I heard myself yes, and it’s not out of choice Gendry, Davos is right, as much as it pains me there are no lords left - no one from my family left to even rule Winterfell anymore. It was left unguarded - unprotected like this castle here, it’s only natural that they would’ve sought to take it once we left it.” Arya countered with her own frustration, that judged by the redness in her eyes, was not directed towards him. 

He’d been close to argue the possibility of her sister as she’d mentioned, and looking back on it, it was most likely for the better that he hadn’t got the chance to do so. Davos must’ve been keen to correct her though, as he interrupted Gendry’s prepared comment and spoke up, “ As much as my lady is theoretically correct, I must also ask you to take it to consideration that it may not need to be lord Stark's own direct offspring…”  

Arya and Gendry both shot him a glare of askance his way, making the old man pause before he continued, “I believe it is a well known fact that lord Stark fathered one bastard, acknowledged him, named him, raised him and taught him in his own image… Such a man in no more Stark than you are Baratheon my lord, and with my lady here and bound to you, I believe it only fitting for our situation that he be sought out to take his fathers place, like you did yours...Until my lady and you-” Davos attempted to finish, but Arya was practically standing before he’d managed to do so. 

“You mean Jon my brother, he’s alive?”

Davos blinked in surprise, obviously taken back by her suddenness, but nodded nonetheless, “Jon Snow yes, stationed at the Wall from what my sources tell me, highly respected as well from what I hear...very much alive as well.” Davos explained, and while Gendry stood idly by, his mind drawing circles about the main subject; Winterfell and the Boltons, Arya was able to continue on, her mood having strangely strayed from worry into a deadpan. 

“I don’t think you’ve fully grasped what the Wall is Davos, much less how it works, it’s not just something you up and leave whenever you feel like it.” She explained and Davos nodded along with her explanation. 

“I'm very well aware of what it is my lady, but I'm also deeply aware of our own situation and how inadequate we are in terms of choosing our options. I understand that you may choose to be narrow minded about this subject since this is your family we’re discussing, but even though we are home now that does not change the fact that we are still at war, and terribly in need of trustworthy allies if we are to win it.” Davos countered with close to equal amount of stress on his tone. 

In the middle of it stood Gendry, still as the air around them and as indecisive as the tide that hit and recoiled from the cliffs below them. He was at a loss for both reason and logic, it was as if Davos had dropped a bundle of broken pieces in front of him, and now asking him to piece it all together without hint of where to start. He knew nothing of a Jon Snow, just has he knew nothing of the siege to begin with, it was odd that despite him being the supposed the head and leader in the room, he’d never felt like a bystander this much in his entire life.

What Davos had said so far made no sense in terms of getting back a castle from the Boltons, and what Arya said made even less sense to him as he saw no reason to chase a man who was sworn elsewhere and unable to do anything to help.

So running a distressed hand through his hair he sighed, “So what is it you’re suggesting Davos? You want me to go north to find some man, her half-brother, who is unlikely to even be able to do as asked, to get allies that I myself would have to fight to secure their position, against people that are not only allied by Lannisters, Freys and soon Tyrells and all of the houses that falls in between those names, but people that are known for flaying their enemies and are rumored to be worse than even the mad King at this point… and that is excluding the fact that I not only just came from the north, but I had to fight to make sure I even got back alive, having just disbanded my forces and been condemned by my sworn lords due to the fact that I wouldn’t chop some other lords head off that I just barely defeated in the first place… am I getting this right?” 

He was just about breathless when he finished, and having said all of it out loud he was now convinced that even his own original plan of marching on King’s Landing was less mad than what Davos had evidently just suggested. The room was quiet for a moment after his rant, and for good reason, even Davos had a look of hesitation on his face before he shook his head. 

“Almost my lord, you got everything aside form the fact that I did not suggest that _you_ go anywhere. I will admit that your wording of it all does paint a strange picture, but do be aware that I have long considered this myself and realise the foolishness in such an obscene plan... I told you I feel a sense of shame in having failed to do my duty to you as your advisor, and your friend I dare say, and if not for my incompetence we would not need this discussion at all… I wish to take responsibility for this, and with your current state, both physically and politically, I wouldn’t ask it of you to take such a risk knowing the stakes.”

Davos rose his chin to meet with Gendry’s stare, his eyes strangely deep, and uncomfortably serious. Davos had always been a serious man, and while Gendry had always softened his attitude with jokes to lighten what he was asking of Gendry, may it be advise or counseling, he seemed impervious to such an attempt this time around. Gendry knew it, there was no softening of this issue, no words that ease the pressure and no way of dismissing it either… Davos had forced his hand this time around, and he would have to face it head on. 

“You’re saying you’ll go?” Gendry had to clarify before he got ahead of himself, and Davos responded immediately with a short nod, “That I am, I feel it would the only reasonable approach to this as I have no doubt, nor wish of my own, that you - or my lady - would be contempt with doing nothing. Our own people need their lord around for now however, and leaving this castle unprotected to wander off again seems not unwise in a strategic perspective but a bit hypocritical. You’ll need a diplomat now, and no offence my lord, but between you and I you haven’t the best of reputations in terms of diplomatic conversing. Not only that but I also think that this is not something that should spread beyond this room, I can hardly imagine what the Lannisters were to do if they caught scent of this, so we’ll need someone trustworthy… I’d say I trust myself most with my own plan-” 

Gendry held up a hand to stop him from speaking further, his head staring to pound from everything thrown his way, and closing his eyes once more he forced himself to confess. “Davos I’m sorry but this is stupid, you can’t seriously be asking to go north by yourself to convince a man that he should just drop everything and join a war he’s probably better off not associating with. Even if he was to agree with you, and magically get out of his oaths, who’s to say anyone will even join him? No offence to the man but you said it yourself; he’s a bastard, and from my own knowledge that isn’t exactly a liked or respected title to have when asked to lead an army or rule a castle, raised by a noble name or not - it sure as hell didn’t do me any favors, and I bet my right hand it won’t do him any either.” 

“I agree with you, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been around to see one raise above expectations despite odd favors either, I’ve done it once so I’d trust I could likely do it again. ” Davos counterd, a bit smug-ish if Gendry had to put a word to the gleam in the old man's eye. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not something to be proud of.” Gendry frowned, folding his arms over his chest as he could hardly imagine ever forgiving any of the things he’d been put through. Davos’ choice or not he sure did his best to play his part when the day of Gendry’s legitimization arrived, and everything else that came after that to raise him into his new position as a lord. 

“Still I have yet to regret it, and what harm is there in at least trying? Worst case scenario I return empty handed, but at least we will have tried… and I will be able to ease myself knowing I acted to the best of my abilities in your place. I ask only that you allow me to try first.” Davos words seemed to linger in the room for a bit, and Gendry was conflicted to respond to it. 

For years Davos had been his only source of support, allowing him to go would be like pushing a baby bird out it’s nest, except the nest was on the side of a hundred feet tall cliff with a raging sea beneath it, and not a mere birch tree where a fall at least didn’t kill the bird if it failed to fly. Gendry would admit that he wasn’t keen on the idea, he hated it really, not entirely because of what Davos was proposing, by now he was used to stupid plans and risky moves. It was his inability to do anything about it himself that made him cross, he was essentially being asked to; sit tight, while a war that was supposed to be his was to be fought for him. 

He glanced to Arya, who was stilling sitting on the bed with a distant gaze to her. She hadn’t spoken, and she didn’t seem like she would any time soon either, perhaps she was feeling the same way as he was about all of this. She was an activist, and even more so when it came to her family, he could only assume that whatever she’d told him that morning was now disregarded because of this. Surely she couldn’t want to do nothing now, for even she had reacted a way that would suggest that she’d not even thought about this Jon Snow to be a possibility… and her sister would not be a point of discussion. 

He must’ve been staring for too long, because suddenly her hollow pupils were locked with his, and he saw just how deeply conflicted she was. she wanted to do something, but at the same time there was some acknowledgement hidden somewhere in there, acknowledgement of a fact that Gendry had yet to face. 

“Alright then.” 

It’d slipped his tongue before he’d even thought to say it, and it was followed by a sense of regret the moment he heard himself. Something in the back of his head tried to make him take it back, but another part of him was simply agreeing, and forced him to say it again. “Alright then… I’ll allow you to go, if you really believe it to be the best option.” 

Saying it a bit louder this time, he started to feel light headed, and felt the weight on his shoulders lift a bit upon watching Davos’ wide eyes meet with his. _Don’t look so surprised_ he thought to himself, and he for some reason couldn’t hide the amused chuckle the expression brought to his chest.

 “Do you mean it?” Davos had to ask, and Gendry tried not to ponder too long in response, fearing that he might really regret it if he did so. “I-... yeah, sure, why not, if you’re really that confident I shouldn’t have reason to doubt you. It’s like you say; we can at least try it, and if you really are wrong and you come back empty handed, I’ll finally have something to hold over your head.” Gendry tried to tease to boost his own confidence and assurance and hide his doubt. 

His poor attempt may be obvious to Davos, but he made no further objections, only smiled and chuckled in return, “Will you be needing anything?” Gendry then asked, not wanting to roam in silence for a moment longer, he needed this over a done with before it was too late to retract. 

“I think not, I have my ship and my own men, and I think it be wiser not to carry any possessions that could indicate any direct connections to you.” He cleafied, and Gendry nodded along, “Alright… When will you be leaving then?” 

“I understand that we have just returned home, and there are still many things left undone, but I’d like it if we didn’t wait around more than needed… which is why I propose I take leave by day break.” Davos explained, and Gendry immediate knew he should’ve prepared himself for his response a bit better, because it felt like he’d been gutted but the time he’d finished talking. A couple of hours wasn’t enough time to prepare himself mentally to be thrown out of his comfort zone, but he supposed he would simply need to grab the bull by the horns once more and face the drop. 

“Right… Tomorrow then.” 

There was nothing more said between them, and once Davos had left the room again, Gendry wasted little time in chugging half of the wine in the carafe that stood by his desk, to kill off the thoughts in his head and numb the burning on his shoulder and the _fucking_ stench of mint that roamed around him. Putting the carafe down he wiped his chin with his sleeve and placed both of his hands on his desk, stretching out the cramped feeling in his spine. 

He focused on his breathing for a while, and only listening to the breaking wood in the fireplace, the cold now being the least of his concerns. He couldn’t decide on weather or not to be deviated or aggravated, he could break something but at the same time he had to energy left and felt no motivation to do even that. 

“It’ll be alright.” He heard Arya whisper, her voice breaking a bit in the middle of it, and while he wanted to console her, he saw no way to when he could barely console himself. 

“I hope so…” 

\--

The sun barely broke the horizon when Arya decided she could no longer lay in bed, she’d been uncomfortable the whole night, having not been able catch even as much as a wink of sleep. Only Gendry made some attempt to, although she could tell from his shifting and huffs that he seemed to have failed to give himself the pleasure. She doubted he even really slept when he finally did close his eyes, because he seemed so easily woken. That morning, she need only lightly brush his short bangs before his eyes opened, no sense of sleep coating them and no laziness in his winks when he stared back at her. 

They had scarcely talked after Davos left last night, both seemingly too stunned to even know what to say to one another. Gendry had been too cooped up in his own thoughts to notice half the things around him, and Arya herself found her often locked in a trance throughout the night. She’d felt naive to have never even as much as considered the possibility of Winterfell falling into other hands, and she’d spent hours guilting herself about it afterwards, despite it being of no use for her to do so. It didn’t help to ponder and regret things that had been out of her control, and because of that, she would admit that most of her thoughts and worries were towards Bran and Jon, and not her old home after having come to terms with it.

She didn’t know whether or not to feel hope of grief, not knowing Bran’s whereabouts was about as a good thing as it was horrible to think about. It meant he was about as much dead as he was alive, quite like Jon really in Arya’s opinion. Davos may have said that he was alive, but there was thousands of miles between the Wall and Storm’s End, and a lot of things could happen within the span of time it took for word to reach them. Jon could die right at that very moment and Arya would have no way of knowing before the beginning of the next year. 

She tried not to frighten herself in such a way too much though, even if it was a good way to keep her wishful thinking in check. She’d made the decision to ignore the mention of her brothers well being for now for the sake of her own sanity, knowing how horrible it’d felt to have lived in a lie for months only for it to have been crushed later. So until she could know for sure, she wouldn’t loom in a daydream. 

It had been a difficult conclusion to draw, but one she saw necessary if she was to ever sleep at night again.

_Focus on what you have and what you can know for sure to be true_ she’d told herself, and even though there wasn’t much of it, it was enough to bring her comfort. It was the same mentality that gave her courage to hold her chin high when standing in the harbor below the castle, overlooking Davos’ small black sailed ship as the dark sky lit up in warm light. 

The breeze had tickled her nose, and chilled her cheeks, giving her a presumably red flush and pink fingertips as Davos held her hand and bid her farewell. His eyes were warm and sincere as she stared blankly into his expression, “Forgive me for being so selfish my lady, I know you said you didn’t wish to carry anymore of my weight, but I hope you’ll do me the favor one last time...” He smiled and glanced at Gendry who helped carry on some of the cargo onto the ship.

 “-You be good to him now, you know how he can be so don’t be too harsh on him... and for the love of the gods don’t let him kill himself while I'm gone.” he teased her and patted the top of her head, and Arya swallowed something thicky as she could practically feel her mother's gentle kisses against her cheeks once more and see her smile in front of her. 

_You be good to your husband now…_

“I’ll try to…” She practically whispered in response, and as if completely forgetting her whereabouts her mothers light voice was interrupted by a gruff chuckle and a pat on her head, “Good, I ask nothing more of you.” 

“Will you write?” She blurred out suddenly, and Davos blinked back in confusion by her sudden haste, before he smiled again and nodded. “Why of course I will-” 

_I will make sure to write to you as often as the winds will let me._

Arya didn’t hear the rest of his response, but she was quite content with what she’d gotten instead, and she felt her throat clog as she searched for something else to say. So instead she pulled out a small folded letter, sealed with a sigil-less red wax and cleared her throat as Davos took it, “For my brother if you find him… do burn it if you can’t give it to him, but if you can and if he lacks motivation… tell him I forgot needle under my bed, and I’d like it back.” 

She explained, and blinked away tears when she let go of the paper. She’d taken the time to write it last night, in hopes that it would not only be of help in Davos’ crusade to convince Jon, but a message of her own that she never got to tell him. It carried some harsher words and softer pleads and had no clear objective, she’d just simply spilled her heart and mind onto the pages and wished for him to receive some her scoulding.  

“You have my word.” Davos nodded and put the letter in his pocket, turning to finally aboard his ship. He smacked Gendry on his shoulder as he placed the last parcel down, red apples, and interrupted his work. “That's enough now my lord, you’ll break your spine next if you continue that way.” 

Gendry rolled his shoulder in response and glared at the old and now clean shaven man, “Not my fault your men work slowly, the suns almost up and you’re still here.” He scuffed to which Davos laughed, “Oh so now you want me gone? where was that attitude last night?” 

“I never said that, but if you must I’d rather you get a move on, was it not you that said that you’d rather not wait around?” The old man nodded in agreement to Gendry’s comment, finding amusement in the moment, it warmed Arya’s chest to see, they’d both seemed so hostile last night. Davos boarded the ship, after giving ruffling Gendry’s lengthy black locks, giving him a snarky comment about how he should cut it; you look too much like an apprentice boy, he’d said. 

Standing at the end of the bridge the two stood and watched as Davos unhinged the ship from the poles and watched as it slowly floated away from them. When it was a few feet out Gendry cleared his throat and called out, “Davos I'm not fully healed yet you know, so I’d appreciate it if I didn’t _have_ to hold anything above your head for a while, I’d really hate for you to trouble me even more after all of this.” 

Arya glanced up at him to catch the slight smirk the words left on his lips, but it was hardly enough to erase the somberness that seemed to coat his eyes when Davos merely laughed and waved. They stood there for a while in silence, watching until the black sails were gone, and the vapor from the sea had vanished and the sun had showed itself completely above the water. The breeze had turned into a rough wind, and the waves had slowly woken up, slamming harder and harder into the shore as time went by, making drizzle of water fall onto Arya’s face and dampening her hair. 

They both stood with a peculiar feeling in their stomachs, facing a reality that none new exactly how to handle nor explain to anyone around them. It was an feeling that only they shared and would have to depend on one another to overcome, but Arya had no doubt about the capabilities of the man she stood next to and shared heart with, and she would work hard to assure that the feeling was mutual. 

Watching him now she saw no parallels to the man who’d walked with her in the gardens of the Red Keep. Although their eyes held the same straight stare as then, they were so different… there was no timidness or cowardice looming in them anymore, only assurance with a hint of discretion and stubbornness. 

It was weird to think she’d fallen in love with the same man as the one King Robert introduced to her in his chamber half a year ago, and she could practically hear her old self laugh at her all the way from Winterfell if she could see her now, and knew of all the morals and principals she’d disregarded for that exact same man. She wasn’t so sure she could ever share with him all the tears she wasted in fear of him, and all the energy she wasted trying to oppose meeting him. 

What Arya wouldn’t give to be able to go back to her and Sansa’s shared room in King’s Landing and give her the description she’d wanted of him now. To go back and return her mother's hug and tell her that she hasn’t forgotten. Thank Robb for his encouragement. Hold onto Rickon and Bran a bit longer. Retuned Jon’s hug that day… Forgive her father. 

It all seemed so far gone now, like a distant memory or a fragment of a dream. And while all of them were now so far from her reach, with now even Davos leaving, she’d regret to say that she felt lonely where she stood at the moment… in fact she wished she could tell them all that she was alright, and not to worry. 

“There’s a storm coming.” Gendry muttered suddenly under his breath, suddenly looking down to notice her stare. She swallowed something, as she took in the sight of him once more and savored in all in her chest. 

“mm…-” She hummed in return, as she weaved her fingers with his, warm rough and that of a servant. “-I bet.” She whispered. 

An amused breath escaped him, and she looked up to catch him examining her, “What?” She asked, to which he merely shrugged, “Nothing, just thought that I might actually have found something I have in common with Robert.” he laughed at how off it sounded, and even Arya had to do a double take. “And what would that be?” She asked, and he shook his head with a light smile on his lips. 

“That we’re both fools.” 

Now it was Arya’s turn to laugh, “Hate to break it to you my lord but you are no fool.” She pointed out, and Gendry shot her an askanced look, “Then what am I m’lady?” He countered, and she rolled her eyes and reached up to pull in his short bangs as payment.

“An utter and complete moron.” 

Gendry had nothing but laugher to give in return to her gesture, and held her wrist before she plucked him bald. “I’ll take it.” He said simply before stealing a kiss from her, that ended in a hiss when he pulled back up, and his hand went to massage his back. “Need another treatment?” She asked with a gesture of amusement, and Gendry immediately flinched and took a step away from her. 

“Actually I'm fine, besides I really should get on with work.” He clarified and started to walk back towards the castle, pulling Arya along as he had yet to let go of her hand. “What work are you talking about? There’s no work to be done yet.” She responded in amusement, to which he pulled a dramatic expression of disbelief. 

“Are you kidding me? There’s _plenty_ of work to be done, I’ll have to stay up for days just to see half of it done!” He exclaimed with a smile, and left Arya to dry away a threatening tear from the corner of her eye as she followed along with his pull… She truly was alright.  

\-- 

Threatening roars coated the skies, making the people screek and fall in fear, tumbling into their houses and closing their blinds. The children hiding under their bed, mothers holding their hands, fathers bolting the door shut shushing the the children as their sobs filled the room. Shocks were went through the city with each gust of wind, and cries got louder, sending the clay vases and copper pots down from their shelves, soaking carpet covered floors and leaving shards scattered through the room. 

Shadows would swarm the city for hours, and only the bravest of souls took pleasure in trying to spot where they landed… and why. Outside the walls of the city the ground would rumble as a synchronised step flattled the gravel beneath the thousands of black leather boots and spears, making their presence known to all within the tall beige walls. For days a plot for conquer and liberation would be put into practice and blood would be spilled to all opposed to it. Blood, fire and lives would all be sacrificed for a purpose of so fundamentally ingrained in a single force of power that people would come to praise as much as fear. 

Here a ruler would come to reign, prosper and grow, until that ruler went further to conquer what it so rightfully wished to claim…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> If you're reading this I want to thank you for having read my all too long and complicated story, I've really had a blast writing this and I've enjoyed coming up with plot and watch the characters grow! 
> 
> But wait there's more, for this is not the end, In case you either can't tell ( or haven't read my last note) I am planning a part 2 of this story which is why I choose to be an ass and leave this with an open ending to pain you all, force your hands and built excitement (or something) 
> 
> Now part 2 won't come out before november I've decided, why? Because I want a head start I guess, but don't worry I've already started, but I also live a life so I'll need to some time to get as far as I want to before you get to see what I have planned. I've considerd making like short "one-shots" of this story while prepareing so people that care won't be lonely while I'm gone, but I haven't decided fully on that (I might even forget tbh) but do tell me if it's something you would care for and I'll see what I can do. 
> 
> Next part will have a lot of other characters and more drama for sure, so I highly advise you to stay tuned for that, and once more, thank you all for reading this I hope you've enjoyed it, there'll be more, do tell me your favorite bit of my story or just this chapter. 
> 
> Until november, hope you see you there!


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